A Glimmer Of Hope
by Heartaches and Cheap Wine
Summary: Sequel to "The Hardest Part Of Letting Go Is Holding On" It's Been three years since that night, what has happened to the Winchesters, how have they coped with the loss and with the new addition, please read. Rated for Strong language!
1. Didnt Think I'd Get this Far without You

**Disclaimer!: Anything you recognise (unless it was from the previous story character wise...) I dont own!**

**A/N: Well, ladies and Gentlemen... Here it is, the sequel to "The Hardest Part Of Letting Go Is Holding On". I actually really like this chapter and dont go judging me straight away, read until the end before you start to throw things at me. Thanks.**

**Leave thoughts and stuff in a review if you wouldnt mind! So, nothing else to say really... except a MASSSSVIE HUGE BIG HUG and THANKS to my wonderful amazinf Beta Camlann who is just so awesome... and... Enjoy!**

* * *

**Didn't Think I'd Get this Far without You.**

Naomi glanced at the clock on the wall of her office, sighing when she saw that it read half past four. The meeting would start in fifteen minutes and end pretty soon after, giving her enough time to go and pick up a few Christmas presents before grabbing dinner and heading home to her little boy before his bed time. The thought of him brought a smile to her face as she got up from her desk and walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows, walking in between the mannequins with Spring/Summer clothing on them. Naomi reached the window and let out a soft sigh at the sight; New York was truly beautiful in the winter. The tops of buildings and all of the ground dusted with a fine white snow, the kind you see in the movies: the sun trying to break through grey clouds to soften the glow of the city in the mid afternoon.

Resting her head against the window, Naomi watched the people walk hand-in-hand down the streets, couples and families, and a sudden feeling of loneliness and pain welled up inside of her as the tears began to fill her eyes. They were feelings she'd grown familiar with other the past few years, feelings she'd grown accustomed to for the most part, but they seemed to grow more prominent and unbearable at this time of year. Christmas was hard. So was Valentines' Day. And Fathers' Day. And birthdays. And her wedding anniversary…

Naomi crossed the large spacious office in a rush, pulling the framed photograph from her desk and holding it to her, the pine frame digging into her chest as she tried to stifle her sobs. She calmed down enough to glance down at the image of the two smiling faces, their eyes shining with happiness as she lay snuggled up to him. It used to sit on the coffee table in her apartment, but she had taken it and placed it here when she'd been hired on permanently by the fashion design firm. The door to her office swung open, and she spun away from the people entering, flipping on the radio to the only channel she knew that played Christmas songs 24/7 and tried to compose herself.

"Naomi, sweetheart, we absolutely have to discuss these wonderful designs!" came the slightly over-excited voice from behind her. Naomi spun around, smile in place and winked at the man.

"Sure thing, Chris!" she smirked, walking over to the far wall and pulling over the cart with fresh coffee, biscuits, Christmas goodies, and anything thing else the assistant who was obviously trying to score some points had decided to put on it.

"You are such a _darling_!" Chris announced. pulling Naomi into a tight hug after she managed to manoeuvre the cart between her designs and the chairs. "How is the tiny tot doing?" he gushed, and Naomi grinned brightly at him. Chris had been her knight-in-shining-spandex when she'd first gotten here. He always acted like the gayest guy in the world, but he was straight. Straighter than straight if Naomi was honest. His blonde hair always covered one eye, the left one, and it was pink at the tips. He was thinner than her, skinny jeans and anything remotely feminine he was in the front of the queue.

"Chris, for the love of God, sit your skinny ass down, so we can get down to business. We'd like to get out of here sometime today. Besides, our resident superstar Naomi is going on a two-week holiday today!" Josh - the manager- barked playfully, and Chris dramatically threw himself onto the chair with the most cushions.

"Let the discussion commence!" Reese yelled, clapping her hands together and diving for a silk dress. "I want this one!" she laughed removing it from the mannequin and holding it against her body.

"Sweetie, it was made for you!" Chris beamed, springing from the chair with such flamboyancy that he landed on Josh who, in turn toppled over and crashed to the floor in a pile of fabric and limbs.

"Well done," Reese scolded dryly as she moved to help them up. But Naomi didn't even notice the chaos, suddenly swept away in memories as Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" began to play through the stereo speakers…

_Naomi held him tighter to her as they made their way through the busy streets of downtown New York. It would have been a lot easier to bring the car but she had instead opted to just trudge through the blistering cold to take him to see Santa. "White Christmas" was being played by some random band in the park, the cheerful nature of the song managing to bring a smile to her face despite the empty feeling that something - someone- was missing. It was their first winter up north, and already a winter storm front was moving in, something she was a bit worried about, and her worry only increased as snow began to fall from the sky. The big flakes of snow landed on his hat and coat, unnoticed by the little boy who was gazing at Naomi's hair with childish glee, laughing merrily at the sight of the snow falling on the long, brown curls that had escaped from her own hat._

"_And what do you find so funny, young man?__"__ Naomi teased as she turned her head to gaze into the sparkling green orbs._

"_You gots clouds in your hair, Momma!__"__ The little boy giggled, and Naomi let out a loud laugh,even as he looked on in confusion. _

"_Sammy, these aren't clouds, baby__—__this is snow.__"__ She tried to explain; __t__he attempt, however, w__as__ futile as her son stubbornly insisted that he was right and that they _were_ clouds and they _were _falling from the sky. Naomi didn't mind__—__as long as he didn't run around and scream that the sky was falling, she was content to let her three-year-old live under the illusion that the clouds were falling down._

"M_omma?__"__ he asked her quietly, his enormous eyes gazing back at her as they stopped at the traffic lights._

"Y_eah, baby?__"__ she asked, smiling as she kissed his cheek._

"_Does the sky fall where daddy is__?__"__ Naomi stared at him for a long time, unsure of what to say._

"_W__ell, maybe sweetie, I don't know__?__"__ she asked softly. Sammy's eyes fell onto her shoulder, before he looked back at her with the same desperation that Dean had in his eyes that night..._

"W_hat bout the angels, Momma?__"__ he asked, seemingly in-tune with her reluctance to talk about Dean._

"_What about them?__"__ She plastered on a smile and crossed the street, her arms tightening around his small frame._

"_Will they all get hurt__ it's really up high__?__"__ his eyes wore that pained expression that had Naomi painfully reminding herself that it was her son__'__s eyes and not Dean__'__s that she was looking into._

"_No baby, they won__'__t get hurt either,__"__ she reassured him, and his eyes seemed to brighten to an impossible shade of emerald __green._

"_Are we there, yet?__"__ he asked, snuggling into her scarf._

"_Yeah, Sammy, look.__"__ She raised her hand and pointed to the __building__ made to look like a cottage across the street. __"__There's Santa's __workshop__ there.__"__ Squealing with excitement, he squirmed to get down, and with a last squeeze, she relented, allowing him to get down and walk beside her. She nevertheless kept a tight grip on his hand as they neared, only letting go when they__'__d safely reached the little cottage and the line of children waiting for their turn to talk to Santa. _

_After impatiently waiting his turn—he was, indeed, his father's son—Sammy finally got to the front of the line, and Naomi couldn't help but laugh as he raced over to the elf who lifted him up and placed him on Santa's lap._

"_Well, young man, what's your name?__"__ the man in the Santa suit asked. _Dean always said he wanted his kids to have the Santa experience, hope this is as good as he wished it would be. _Naomi smiled._

"_I'm __Samuel Dean Winchester__—__but only __when momma and Aunt Lola are mad, when they not__, I__'__m Sammy,__"__ he smiled brightly and everyone laughed._

"_Okay Sammy, how old are you, then?__"__ Santa grinned down at the little boy when he looked up at him._

"_Three.__"_

"_Wow, aren't you a big boy for three! So what would you like for Christmas?__"_

"_Well,__"__ Sammy paused to think, __"__I want one of those Transformers trucks that turn into a robot and can step on cars, and Power Rangers__—__but only the red one and the blue one, __don't want the _girly _ones_!_—__and um...little army men!__"__Sammy carried on, ringing off all the toys he wanted for Christmas as Naomi ran through her mental check list to see which toys she had, which ones she still had to get and which ones she should add to the list._

"_Santa, can you bring me _anything_ I want? Anything in the whole __wide __world?__"__ Sammy asked, interrupting Naomi's thoughts, _No Sammy please don't go there, we've talked about this…

"_Of course__ young man, __I'll do my best to make__ room for it in my sleigh,__" Santa said with a chuckle and a smile._

_Naomi held her breath as she waited for her son's response._

"_Can you bring my Daddy home for Christmas? He__'__s maybe kinda big__—__bigger __'__an me, I guess__—__but I don__'__t think he__'__s too big for your sleigh,__"__ Sammy told him earnestly, his eyes filled with such hope that Naomi couldn't help the tear that made its way down her cheek in the silence of the makeshift grotto._

"Naomi?"

The sound of Reese calling her name brought her abruptly back to the present, and she shook her head as Reese dropped a bundle of fabric onto one of the chairs, and slowly approached her.

"Darling?" Chris called gently as he, too, made his way over to Naomi, slipping his arms around her and as she began to sob into his chest. "That's it, honey, let it all out." he soothed, shocked when she pushed him back.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry," Naomi forced out brokenly, as she pushed him away again, embarrassed by the show of emotion. _How can I be so stupid as to fall apart on the? Come on, Naomi, get yourself together! _"Sorry, it's just the first Christmas without my dad—he used to sing that song," she told them, and though it was the God-honest truth, she knew that wasn't the whole truth. Naomi shrugged and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. Josh came over and hugged her tightly. She loved Josh hugs. They weren't anywhere near as good as _Dean_ hugs—they were more… cuddly. Josh himself was on the larger side of life, which, in turn, made his hugs so much more huggable. Naomi sighed as she pulled away from the hug and smiled gently at him.

"Can we hurry this up a little please, I have left my son's life in the hands of a rather eccentric girl, who doesn't really know how to cook properly." Naomi smiled and the others laughed, making their way over to the seat.

An hour of chatter and laughter and bantering back and forth later, the new NW spring/summer collection was ready to be launched onto the catwalks and into mass production as soon as the offices reopened after the Christmas holidays.

"Come on—I'll walk you to your car," Reese offered as she handed Naomi her purse and coat.

"Thanks." Naomi smiled gratefully, giving the two men a final hug before walking out of the office arm-in-arm with Reese.

"Look if you need anything over the break, just let me know okay?" Reese smiled, tucking a lock of dyed red hair behind her ear. Reese was a forty-something drifter, a bit like a mother to Naomi since she'd gotten the job and had lost her father the year before.

"I will, thanks—you, too!" Naomi replied as she shrugged her coat on and pulled her hair out of the collar, tucking her purse under her arm and pushing the button for the elevator.

"I'm serious, Naomi. Anything you need, lemme know, and I'll be there. I know how hard it is." Reese offered a smile as she preceded Naomi into the elevator.

"I know, and I appreciate it, Reese, I really do," Naomi told her sincerely as she hit the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the cool metal of the wall. "It's just Sammy I'm worried about. It's his first Christmas without his Grandaddy, and with things being as they are…well, I just don't know how well he'll cope, you know?" Naomi let out a shaky exhale, telling herself to hold the tears at bay until she got into bed that night. Or at least until she got to the car.

"Sorry kiddo, I can't help you out there. I guess the best you can do is remind him how much his Grandad loved him and that he's watching over him." Reese's gaze dropped to the floor, a sudden sadness filled the confined space, something which Naomi hadn't felt since…

"You should stop by over the holidays and tell him so yourself—I know he'd love to see you," Naomi said suddenly. She meant it, of course she did, but she knew it was meant as a distraction.

"Yeah," Reese whispered, the door pinged open, "I think I will sometime," She pushed the hold button and hugged Naomi close. "Give that boy of yours a hug from me, have a good Christmas!"

"You too, and I sure will!" Naomi kissed her on the cheek and stepped backwards out of the elevator, pulling her cell and her keys from her purse as her heels clacked across the tiled floor of the reception area.

"Night, Mrs. Winchester!" the janitor, Leo, called, and Naomi flashed him a winning smile.

"Night, Leo, and Merry Christmas!" The swish of the door muffled his reply, but she knew it would have been a return of her greeting and another to pass onto her Sammy.

_Shit…Sammy!_ Naomi thought as she glanced at her watch. _I should have called an hour ago! Dammit. _It was their little tradition: she would call at five o'clock every night when she was working, they would have a chat, and then Sammy would go get Lola and eat his dinner, all ready for Naomi to bathe him when she got home and put him to bed. Dialling the house number, she unlocked the car, slipping fluidly behind the wheel of the familiar, black '67 Chevy Impala and pulling her seat belt on.

"Hello Nichols residence, Lola speaking."

"For the love of God, Lola, it's _Winchester_. Not Nichols. Hasn't been for over three years now," Naomi snarled, realizing that she was taking her feelings out on Lola, but unable to stop herself from snapping at her best friend. Because it wasn't Lola she wanted to be speaking to. It wasn't Lola she wanted answering her phone at home. She wanted Dean. But she couldn't have him, and the unfairness of it all came bursting out of her over the phone in a wave of bitchiness that she knew was uncalled for. Still, Lola wasn't one to take that sort of thing without retaliating, so she returned the favor in kind.

"Oh, hi, Naomi—glad you _finally_ decided to call," Lola retorted, her voice full of biting sarcasm that was unmistakeable despite the seemingly friendly words. "I have a petrified three-year-old here who thinks his momma's gone with the angels forever like his Grandad !" Lola yelled and Naomi sighed.

"I got caught up, I'm sorry. Just…put him on, please." Naomi rested her head against the steering wheel, the smooth leather bringing her no comfort at all.

"Momma!"

"Hey, baby. Momma's sorry for not calling sooner--," she began…

"Where're you at?" he asked tearfully._ It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't have to be afraid that no one'll be there for him._

"I'm leaving work right now," she told him.

"But why you not here _now_? You's 'posed to be here now."

"I know, sweetheart, but Momma was working really hard, and—"

"I want you to be home now—I don't want you to be not here like Daddy and Granddaddy."

"I know you don't. But I'm on my way, and I'm coming as fast as I can."

"In Daddy's car?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you'll be here in a few minutes?"

_Eh, close enough._ It would be more like half-an-hour, but Sammy's sense of time was what every three-year-old's sense of time was: a matter of minutes, and trying to get him to understand anything beyond that was still relatively futile.

"Yes, sweetheart—I'll be home soon," she told him, her heart heavy as she listened to him cry with a heavy heart.

"You promise you wont leave me here by my own?"

"I promise I won't leave you."

"Not ever?"

"No baby, not ever." Naomi's eyes stung with the unshed tears, the words she had just said to their son had been used to comfort her, to promise her she wouldn't be on her own. "I'll be home in a bit, love." Naomi tried to soothe the little boy as he burst into tears, a mixture of relief and tiredness Naomi presumed.

"I miss you, Momma." Sammy sobbed down the line, his little fingers clutched around the black receiver.

"I miss you too, baby. But try not to cry okay? You don't want to upset Aunt Lola anymore, do you?"

"No ma'am," he said with a sniffle, trying like the brave boy he was to stop crying. Hearing her voice seemed to have calmed him down a little, not enough to listen to the rumble in his stomach and go eat his dinner, but enough to exchange "I love you's" with her and hang up the phone.

_Oh, Dean, what am I supposed to do? He's an emotional wreck whenever I leave the house, now._ With a sigh, she pressed down harder on the accelerator, more anxious than ever to get back home.

* * *

"So, little man, you gonna come eat?" Lola asked, as she scooped him up into her arms and walked down the hall into the massive country-style kitchen. As she sat down at the kitchen table and pulled him into her lap, Lola placed a gentle kiss on his temple as she pulled the plate from the centre of the table where Sammy had shoved it earlier.

"Nuh-uh," the little boy told her, shaking his head emphatically as he pushed the plate back into the centre of the table.

"Come _on_ Sammy, you gotta eat." Lola pulled the plate towards them again and set about cutting the now cold chicken nuggets into even smaller bits.

"Not 'til Momma's here." Sammy clamped his mouth shut, turned his face into her shoulder and crossed his arms in protest.

"You really are your father's son, you know that?" Lola murmured under her breath and petulantly pushed the plate away from them.

"Daddy." Sammy pulled his head back from Lola's shoulder and smiled brightly at her.

"What about him?" Lola refused to meet Sammy's gaze, instead focusing on smoothing her fingers through Sammy's unruly blonde mop of hair.

"Tell me."

"About what?" Lola looked down at the empty spot on the table where the plate used to be.

"Tell me 'bout _Daddy,_ silly." Sammy smirked at her, a carbon copy of Dean's that left Lola feeling like an idiot. It was ridiculous to let a three-year-old get to her that way, but he was just so damn good at it, that smirk conveying the full effect of his father's ability to make anyone want to ram their head into a wall out of sheer frustration. _Sad, Lola. So sad._

"What do you want to know about him?" Lola gathered Sammy into her arms, getting the feeling that pictures may be necessary in their little discussion, and made her way out of the kitchen and into the living room that had been transformed from a Moroccan set-up of deep reds, chocolate browns and soft beige to a Christmas cottage of bright reds and greens, Santa hats and reindeer, tinsel and pine leaves, baubles and presents.

"Umm…" Sammy looked pensive as Lola settled them on the beige sofa amongst the throws and cushions, sinking into the comforting warmth. "Did he love Momma since forever?" his little voice piped up.

"Sure did, sweetie," she said, her eyes drifting around the room before settling on the photograph of Dean and Naomi next to the ultrasound picture of Sammy. "That's why Momma drives the 'pala." Lola leaned forward, her eyes never leaving the photograph on the fireplace. Sammy followed her gaze, staring wistfully back at the photo with a sadness that was heartbreaking in a child so young.

"Momma and Daddy." He smiled and he pushed off of her lap, walking over to the fireplace and gazing up the photograph. Lola walked over and picked him up, putting him eye level with the picture of his parents, about to say something only to be interrupted by the loud rumble of Sammy's tummy.

"Tell you what," she set him back down on the floor, dropping to her haunches so she was eye level with him and cupped his face in her hands, "I'll give momma a call, ask her to bring in some ice-cream while you go and eat your dinner all up. Deal?"

"Um… Ask momma to bring Sammy pie?" Sammy smiled brightly and Lola rolled her eyes.

"Fine… Deal?" she asked unsurely, waiting for another change to the plan until Naomi was bringing in allsorts of treats and his chicken nuggets remained on the table.

"Deal!" Sammy nodded, racing out of the room, leaving Lola to chuckle as she took her phone out of her pocket to call Naomi.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Yeah, I know, what do you want?" Naomi's clearly irritated voice came through the phone.

"Sorry, Mrs Grinch, I would like to speak to my best friend." Lola grit back.

"Sorry Lola, I shouldn't be taking this out on you, I'm tired and I have an over emotional kid whenever I leave the house and now I'm babbling all my problems away to you down the phone. Sorry babe, what were you calling for?" Naomi stopped in the middle of the aisle, list clutched in the hand that rested against the shopping cart, feeling like a complete bitch.

"It's fine, that's what I'm here for right?" Lola let out a long breath. "Sammy wouldn't eat his dinner so I made a deal with him…. He eats his chicken nuggets, you bring him in some pie."

"Fine, I'll bring him in pie?" _since when did he eat pie? _Naomi thought as she reached up and pulled the box with the toy truck down, placing it in the cart and went to end the call, when she heard Lola's voice. "What did you just say?" She asked as she put her phone back to her ear.

"I said he was asking about Dean earlier…you're gonna have to talk to him, N." Lola's voice seemed to have a ring of sympathy to it, and Naomi let out a breath.

"Okay," she murmured. "See you when I get home—I shouldn't be long." With that, Naomi ended the call and pocketed the cell. _If there was something I didn't need right now, that would be it,_ Naomi thought sadly as her new nickname reverberated through her mind—no-one called her 'Mimi' anymore, just Naomi or Mrs. Winchester or some other pet name meant to offer comfort but serving to do nothing but highlight how alone she actually was. _Which is something else I don't wanna think about right now. _She mentally scolded herself as she went in search of a check -out and stepped into the shortest line to put the toys and pie that she had retrieved up onto the conveyor belt, when something caught her attention. To her far left, there was a young couple, about the age she and Dean were when…

_They look so happy together_, _so in love_, Naomi thought as she caught her lip between her teeth. This was not the place for a break down. Smiling at the cashier, she handed him her card. The card that had _his_ name on it, the card that _he_ got for _her._ Naomi grabbed her bags and raced out of the store, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness almost drowning her when she saw the car, _his_ car in a solitary spot in the Wal-Mart parking lot. The car—_his car_, the little voice in her head reminded her—that used to bring her comfort now only brought her pain and the unbearable acknowledgement that he should be here. With her. Right now.

Naomi got the distinct feeling that she was being watched as she loaded the toys and the food into the car. The eerie chill that went up her spine gave her the distinct feeling that she should grab for the holy water and shotgun she still kept in the truck of the Impala... well, the holy water that she kept safely tucked away in her purse. A rustle in the trees startled Naomi even further, and she let out a breath. The place was too open, too vast to pinpoint the noise and far too big to walk about waving a shot gun. _That would go down real well with the sheriff, _Naomi thought to herself. "_So sorry, Officer, I was looking for this demon that may or may not be stalking my family, but don't worry—it couldn't have killed anyone, the rounds are filled with rock salt." Yeah, that would go down _real_ well._

Naomi allowed herself a little smirk as she pushed the cart to the little place in the middle of the parking lot. The short walk back was even quicker when Naomi power-walked to the car, telling herself over and over that it was the cold she was running from and not the creepy feeling. Slipping behind the wheel and closing the door, locking herself safely inside, Naomi let out a shaky breath and rested her head against the steering wheel. _Come on Naomi, what would Dean say? Dean would go and check it out, better to be safe than sorry, stop being a wuss and go freaking see! _When movement caught her eye, Naomi opened the driver's door and got out, standing against the Impala, her breath fogging in front of her eyes into the crisp cold winter night.

"Hello?" She called into the almost darkness, getting even more worried when there was no reply except the echo of her own voice. "Who's there?" She yelled again, annoyance more then anything starting to well up inside of her. Letting out an agitated breath, Naomi climbed back into the car, hitting the steering wheel in sheer annoyance, before firing up the engine and peeling out of the parking lot, completely missing the flickering streetlights and the figure that stepped out of the shadows.

* * *

Naomi flipped the radio off as she drove the wintry, 'it's-a-week-till-Christmas' roadways, disheartened by the sight of people out carolling and the lawns covered with lights, decorations, and snowmen. The past three years had been the same: she would cry herself to sleep every Christmas Eve waiting for the one person she knew wouldn't be there, wishing for him, needing him, wanting him to be there to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright. But every year, she wished, only to wake up alone. Without Dean.

Naomi bit her lip against the onslaught of tears that threatened her again and pulled into the driveway of her uptown New York home, waiting impatiently for the automatic doors of the garage to open so she could take the Impala inside. There was no way she was leaving his baby out in the snow. After securing the garage, she made her way into the house through the kitchen door, and looked around, placing the pie down carefully on the counter. Naomi didn't see him at first, and by the time he launched himself at her, it was too late to defend herself.

"Momma!"

"Sammy! Hey, baby!" Naomi unattached Sammy from her leg and pulled him into her arms, resting him on her hip. "I brought you pie like you wanted!" Naomi kissed him on the side of the head and hugged him closer to her body, his little limbs wrapping themselves as tightly as possible around his mother.

"You were gone for forever and ever, and I thought you was never gonna come back! I put all my toys away and eated my dinner all up and_ everything." _Sammy said emphatically, looking up at Naomi with big green eyes filled with innocence.

_If you're anything like Dean, "put away" means thrown in a corner someplace._ "Wow," she told him with convincing pride in her voice at his accomplishment. "Pity you couldn't be a good boy and eat your dinner." Naomi raised an eyebrow at him, and Sammy looked to the floor with that kicked-puppy look that always managed to ruin any attempt to scold him.

"I eated what I could mange momma, but I had to leave room for pie!" He smiled again and Naomi shook her head.

"Go on, then and sit at the table" Naomi kissed him again before setting him down onto the floor, allowing him to make his own way over to the table, and climb up onto his chair.

"Lola, where art thou Lola?" Naomi sniggered.

"I'm in the living room, Romeo!" Lola called back.

"Momma?" he whispered quietly as Naomi got plates out of the cupboard and shrugged out of her coat.

"Yeah?" she asked, pulling pie out of the bag. She hated giving him things with this much sugar at half past six, but she didn't have any other choice right now.

"I miss him." His little voice was filled with so much hurt that Naomi had to lean on the counter for support.

"Miss who, baby?" she asked, knowing the answer even as she turned to see his little head bowed as he fiddled with his hands, fidgeting uncomfortably on the chair.

"Daddy." His voice trembled as did his bottom lip, the little boy doing his best not to cry.

"I miss him, too, sweetheart," Naomi smiled sadly and walked over to the table, turning her son around in the chair and kneeling beside him. "But he loves you very, very much, and he wants you to be strong for him, baby—you can do that for Daddy, can't you?" she asked, doing her best not to cry in front of her son.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, nodding sadly, his gaze still glued to the floor.

"Come on, little man, How about you go and get Aunt Lola for me?" Naomi asked, titling his head up to meet hers and giving him a kiss on each cheek.

"'kay," he nodded again and allowed Naomi to lift him off of the chair before racing out of the kitchen, Naomi returning to the counter and abandoned dinner.

_What would Dean do if he were here and not me?_ Naomi wondered to herself. She had always had a strong bond with her son, but she knew all the same that she just couldn't be _everything_ for her son. A boy needed his father. It was like her and her own father—while she had always been a daddy's girl, there had been times when she needed her mother. There were just some things a girl needed her mother for, and there were just some things that a boy needed his father for. _God, I miss him so much, miss them both so much._ Naomi swallowed around the lump in her throat when she heard the pitter patter of Sammy's little feet racing along the hall way and back into the kitchen, Lola's voice echoing behind him as she hollered for him to slow down.

"Hey N, how was work?" Lola lifted Sammy into his chair despite his protests and threw a curious look in Naomi's direction when she barked out a laugh. "What?"

"Dude, you just asked me about my day—no wonder people think we're a couple sometimes." Naomi shook her head and placed the two plates in front of her hungry looking son and confused looking best friend, returning to the table a few minutes later with her own slice of pie.

"So was work good, Momma?" Sammy asked, tucking into his pie as though he had never seen food before.

"Hm-hmm. Momma's got her new clothes into mass production so they'll be in the shops soon." Naomi smiled when her little boy's eyes lit up.

"So we can go buy Momma clothes that were made by Momma?!" The fleeting thought of how hectic Christmas morning would be if this was how he reacted to a clothing line had Naomi choking on a piece of apple

"Yeah, little man, it does." Lola smiled at Sammy who kicked his legs happily under the table and went back to scarfing down his dinner.

"SO, how was work Lola?" Naomi looked at her and Lola let out an agitated breath.

"If they don't move that skank, I will."

"Hey, language!" Naomi scolded and Lola held her hands up. "What's she done now?"

"She told everyone that I was with Karl from Editing, but I never was and never will be with that creep. So now everyone thinks I'm a slut." Lola moaned, stabbing her sweet and sour chicken bitterly with her fork.

"Aw sweetheart, would you like me to call your boss, tell him the nasty children are saying naughty things behind your back?" Naomi teased, sticking her tongue out at Lola. "How was your day, Sammy?" Naomi looked at him and he smiled with his mouth full earning himself an eyebrow raise.

"Sowwy." he mumbled around the food swallowing it before continuing, "Kylie kissed me today. Like on the lips, Momma!" he said disgustedly, "And everyone saw it! But I told her I didn't like her and she was ugly," he said with a shrug of his shoulders as Naomi and Lola both struggling to keep their laughter in.

"Well as long as she knows where she stands with you." Lola informed him with a nod, and Naomi agreed, prompting a familiar smirk from Sammy that caused Naomi's eyebrows to shoot up in shock. _Like father like son_, she thought and turned back to her own dinner as thoughts of Dean and her own father filled her mind.

"So I have to work until Christmas Eve at the magazine! Aren't you glad you're off now, Naomi?" Lola asked to kill the silence.

"Oh yeah—means I get to spend time with my lovely little boy." Naomi ruffled his hair, earning a glare that really was a chip off of the old block.

"When's Santa coming Momma?" Sammy asked wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Just a week, angel. Lola, could you take care of the dishes while I bathe this dirty little pup?" Naomi looked in her friend's direction who nodded.

"Sure, I'll clean them up and let myself out. It just so happens that Ihave a hot date tonight," Lola said with a sly grin.

"With Karl from editing?" Naomi laughed as she got up from the table and helped Sammy down from his chair.

"Very funny," Lola pouted. "No, with a nice lawyer I met downtown a few weeks ago. We're going out for a few drinks." Lola winked at Naomi who rolled her eyes. "You should get out more.. Maybe…," she added quietly, gaining a slap on the arm as Naomi passed her.

"No way. I don't need or want another guy." Naomi glared at her, then her face softened. "Call me so I know you're safe, okay?"

"Sure thing," Lola agreed, hugging Naomi and watching her walk out of the room and up the stairs with Sammy in tow.

* * *

"Come on, my little fish—stand up, I gotta get you outta there." Naomi held the towel in both hands and waited for Sammy to finally get to his feet among the bubbles and bath toys, gathering him into the towel and wrapping him up like ET. "So, Batman or Star Wars?" she asked as she began to dry him off, starting with his longish blonde locks, and finishing with his ticklish toes.

"Batman!" He all but yelled and Naomi grinned at him, taking his pajamas off of the heater and putting them on her son's warm little body, picking up his matching Batman slippers and robe, not that he would put it on later, as she let the water out of the bath and placed him on the floor, allowing him to put them on himself.

"Come on, kiddo, time for your milk and then beddy-byes." Naomi flipped the light off and watched as he walked down the stairs carefully, racing into the kitchen when he reached the bottom. _I gotta find a way to burn up that energy he has. _Naomi exhaled as she walked into the kitchen smiling fondly when Sammy pulled open the fridge door, and glared up at the shelf where the milk was.

"I wanna do it by myself," Sammy held his hands above his head and beamed when Naomi lifted the carton of milk from the shelve and handed it to him.

"What next, little man?" Naomi asked as she walked over the counter and he handed the carton to her to place on the counter.

"Um… cups!" his little eyes lit up when lifted him up and carried him over to the other side of the kitchen and allowed him to once again take the two cups from the cabinet along with his own little plastic cup that the milk was put into.

"Right, down we go." Naomi leant forward to put him onto the floor.

"No, Momma, I gotta say nights!" he looked at her exasperated.

"Okay, okay! Keep your underpants on." Naomi sniggered walking towards the window and placing Sammy on the counter, standing behind him when he slid onto his knees and lifted the curtain up.

"Night, Grandma Mary. Night, Grandma Izzy. Night, Grandpa John and Grandaddy Rich….and Uncle Sam!" Sammy turned to Naomi who smiled at him before he turned back to the window. "Night, Daddy. Momma, is Daddy in the stars?" He asked turning around to her, unconcealed worry in his eyes.

"Damn, I sure hope not," came the familiar rumble.

"Daddy!" Sammy's eyes lit up impossibly more, and Naomi spun around, tears shining in hers as Dean stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

"What, no hugs?" he asked cockily, the oh-so-familiar smirk passing over his features as he crouched down to catch Sammy as the little boy ran hell-bent-for-leather towards him the second Naomi lifted him down from the counter.

"I missed you, Daddy," Sammy whispered, snuggling tightly into Dean, who closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"I missed you, too," Dean smiled, his voice slightly tight.

"So did Momma—she was crying last night." Sammy said into Dean's ear. It was obviously supposed to be a whispered secret, but being quiet wasn't exactly the three-year-old's strong point.

"Really?" Dean kinked his eyebrow at his son, the movement making the gash on his head start to bleed again.

"Daddy, you got your head banged again." Sammy shook his head and tutted, making Naomi clear her throat to cover the giggle that was wanting to break out of her. "But you got the bad guy, right?" Sammy's face was suddenly filled with seriousness.

"Yeah, I got the bad guy." Dean nodded, moving his son to his hip and holding his arm out to Naomi who all but ran into him, burying her face into this neck to hide her tears from both of her boys. "Tell you what?" Dean asked as he felt Naomi's tears on his neck. "Why don't you go upstairs and put on a DVD while Momma fixes my head, and we'll come up to tuck you in when she's finished?"

"Okay, Daddy!" Sammy chirped, allowing Dean to put him on the floor before racing out of the room. "Daddy?" Sammy stopped in his tracks in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"You wont leave again while I'm gone?" Sammy blinked, his lips set in a determined line as though he was trying not to cry in front of Dean.

"I promise I wont leave kiddo, now go pick the DVD we're gonna watch." Dean smiled at his son and watched as he turned around, still a little unsure, then walked up stairs.

"I missed you." Dean whispered as he bent his head and tried to make eye contact with her, even as she refused to meet his gaze. "Hey, come on." Dean tilted her face up and smiled gently at her. "I'm okay, I'm here _in time _for Christmas this time—there's no need for all this." He kissed her head and wiped her tears before kissing her on the lips. The soft but passion-filled kisses that she had been missing for the past few weeks since he'd left to hunt, somehow not making everything okay again, not taking away the bitter pain of loneliness.

"Gross!" Sammy yelled. "Daddy, stop kissing on Momma!" he scolded as he charged back into the room and pushed himself between them, glaring up at Dean with his arms crossed.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean held his hands up and tried to hide his smile when Sammy snorted and turned to Naomi who crouched down to him.

"What is it, sunshine?" she asked, smoothing his hair that was fast becoming too long and curly away from his eyes.

"I was comin' to tell ya', don't forget my milk. And don't let Daddy kiss on you no more," he commanded and Naomi nodded once.

"Okay, baby, we'll be up soon." She grinned at him and kissed him on the nose.

"Remember, Momma—I'm the only one you're 'llowed to kiss on. Daddy's too big for kisses," Sammy said as he waved his finger in Naomi's face and cast a dirty look at his father.

"Alright, I'll remember that. Now off you go." Naomi stood up and watched her son scurry out of the room, glaring daggers at Dean as he did so. "I think you should sit down before he ends up killing you himself," Naomi giggled when he was out of earshot.

"Too big to be kissed," Dean muttered as he sat down on the table, body tensing with the effort not to show pain, opting to kick his legs and whistle appreciatively when Naomi bent down to get the icepack from the mini-fridge in the cupboard next to the garage door.

"Dean," she admonished, blushing as she walked back over to him, putting the first aid box down and handing him the icepack.

"What? I haven't seen you in weeks—I've missed you." Dean pulled her to him, his arms locking behind her back as he trailed kisses up her chest and neck.

"Dean, enough!" Naomi squeaked, as she picked up the steri-strips from the first aid box.

"Oh come on, he said nothing about me kissing you."

"Yeah he did—he said I wasn't allowed to let you kiss on me." Naomi warned and Dean looked up at her, and smirked, kissing a path to the spot behind her ear…

"Momma!" Sammy yelled again. "You was 'sposed to not let Daddy do that!" he scolded, his hands on his hips.

"Sorry, baby, but it was Daddy's fault, not mine!" Naomi tried, smiling when her son nodded in agreement and walked back up the stairs.

Naomi watched him go before turning back to Dean, carefully placing the strip over the wound on his head. "I thought you weren't coming back…you hadn't called in weeks….I thought…" Naomi trailed off, and Dean frowned, cupping her jaw in one hand.

"I'm not gonna lie to you—things went south on the hunt, and I couldn't call. By the time we got things under control, it was just as easy to drive on home than it was to take time-out for a phone call. Hell, I just wanted to be home—so it looks like you're stuck with me, baby." He smiled at her again when she nodded.

"How bad are they?" she dared to ask, not really wanting to know the answer but needing to know how to prepare herself.

"look worse than they are." Dean's gaze fell to the floor. _Then the answer to my question is, "incredibly bad."_

"Well, that's your head done." Naomi looked for a slight change in subject, before sneaking a kiss to Dean's lips, a soft, lazy slow kiss that explained to him everything she wanted to say but couldn't.

"You go and settle in with Sergeant No-Kisses, and I'll make the milk," Dean whispered, resting his forehead against hers wearily, taking a moment to just breathe her in.

"Sure. Remember—not too hot or it will take ages to cool and it'll be forever before we get him to bed. You know, you look exhausted…I think you should go to bed early." Naomi winked at him, straightening up before biting her lower lip as she played with the lapels of his leather jacket.

"You gonna tuck me in?" he said with a playful grin, quirking his eyebrow at her pointedly.

"That depends—did you damage my car in any way, shape or form?" Naomi asked seriously and Dean shook his head.

"No damage to your baby, just me. Scout's honor." He said, holding his hand up..

"Then I'll consider it." Naomi leaned away from him only to be pulled back against his solid chest as his lips claimed hers, sealing the promise of later. "Alright, I need to get upstairs before Sammy has a meltdown," she murmured, pushing him away with a sigh of regret.

"Yeah, well you'd better come and tuck me in tonight, or _I'll_ have a meltdown," Dean told her with a grin as he reluctantly let her go. "We'll continue this…discussion…later.." Dean winked at her as he stepped away and slipped out of his jacket with great difficulty, hanging it over the chair and walking over to the counter where the previously forgotten milk and cups sat.

Naomi walked out of the kitchen, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since Dean had left and smiled fondly at their car keys lying next to each other on the table. _Lola must have brought them from the kitchen, _she thought as she passed the table at the bottom of the stairs. They swapped cars, simply because they couldn't be with each other all the time. She would drive his and think of him, and he would drive hers and think of her. Simple, easy solution that their little boy had thought up. Not deliberately, of course, but he was to blame for the car swapping.

"Sammy," Naomi called as she walked into his room, the sudden chill hitting her and making her shiver. "Sammy, babe, what have I told you about the windows?" Naomi asked as she walked into his room, her brow furrowing with confusion at his empty bed. Turning on her heel, she walked into the bathroom and saw no sign of her three-year-old there. "Sammy?" she called again, screaming when realization dawned on her and she raced back into the bedroom. Doubling over, her hand clutched over her mouth in shock as she felt Dean's arms wrap around her.

"Mimi!?" Dean pulled her to him, worry etched on his face, holding her tightly as she sobbed against him, her fist clutching in his shirt. "Naomi what's wrong? Where's Sammy?!" he asked her, eyes widening when the chill suddenly hit him too. His gaze drifted ominously toward the windowsill, and as he held her close, Naomi knew he was staring at the same thing she was: the yellow residue that was strewn across it. Sulphur.

**Review? Please... oh and you can't kill me if you do you wont get the next chapter. **

**K**

**xox**


	2. Losing One to Find the Other

**Disclamier : See chapter one**

**A/N: Right, so so so sorry guys, I just didnt have all that much time to do this! But it's here now thanks the the speed of mt Darling Beta Camlann whom you guys so owe for this chapter being as good as it is, any mistakes are all mine though! So hope you guys enjoy this! **

**Love you all!**

**K**

**xox**

* * *

Losing One to Find the Other. 

She knew the snow was bouncing off of her bare skin, but she had long since lost the will to care, her top was soaked through and her jeans were fast going the same way. The teddy bear she clutched to her a painful reminder of why she was here, why she was unable to feel anything past the numbness and emptiness that was threatening to drown her in its path. _Gone, just__…__gone. _Naomi felt the hot tears burn her skin, then, the scolding path they left as they poured from her eyes, down her face, and onto the soft, soaked fabric of the bear. _Why didn't I check the windows? Why did I have to leave him there so long by himself? Why didn't I wait around longer at the store? I would have noticed then, I knew there was something off. Sammy doesn't deserve this. He hasn't done anything wrong._ Naomi's head made a soft thud as it hit off of the porch railing, her body shaking with the effort to keep her soundless sobs just that, completely and utterly soundless, because, chances were, he would come out and he would do his best to comfort _her. _

_Why couldn't he have given this up sooner? Why couldn't he have given all of this up, his stupid search for Sam, his stupid crusade to save someone who almost killed him once? _Naomi's gaze fell to the gold band that glittered in the moonlight, the day he'd placed it on her finger reverberating in her mind.

"_I, Dean Winchester , take you, Naomi Isabella Nichols, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God, I make this vow."_

_Naomi felt the tears well up in her eyes as his words echoed in her ears. Four days, was the mantra that bounced about in her head as she took hold of Dean's hand. _Don't let go_, she pleaded silently, gripping tighter onto him as though if she didn't let go, nothing could take him from her. _Never_, he assured her with his eyes, his thumb stroking over the soft skin of her hand, which allowed her to, in turn make her vow to him. _

"_I, Naomi Isabella Nichols, take you, Dean Winchester , to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy law. In the presence of God, I make this vow." _

Naomi slipped the ring from her finger and turned it in her hand. _Some promises they turned out to be, _she thought brokenly as the sobs wracked her body again, angry at him for not protecting his family, angry at herself for not protecting her family, angry at whoever took her little boy, angry at Dean's never-ending crusade to find a brother that didn't want to be found.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Naomi knew it wasn't Dean's fault, not really, and that he was hurting too, a fact that made her so much angrier and hurt that she wasn't sure where the lines of blame came to an end and the line of _needing_ to blame someone began. She knew Lola was watching her too, she could feel her eyes burning into the back of her shirt, but she somehow couldn't recall how or when the other woman had ended up at the house. The past few hours had been a complete blur.

It was all _wrong _now.

Dean had come home, and everything had been perfect. It was _right_ then. But now it was over. Gone. The illusion was shattered into so many little pieces along with her heart, and she wasn't entirely sure any of it could ever fit back together. Naomi gripped the bear tighter as she slipped the ring off of her left hand and slid it onto the finger of her right hand, somehow unable to just throw it away. Because after all, this wasn't Mary's fault; it was her sons' fault. Both of them.

* * *

Lola gazed out at the lonely figure on the porch steps, wanting nothing more than to help her but simply not knowing how.

"She'll catch her death out there." Lola turned her head in the direction that the voice had come from and sighed softly at the man in the doorway.

"I've been wondering for the past hour if maybe that's her plan, Bobby." Lola straightened and turned to face the older man. "What about him?" she whispered, indicating the living room where Dean had vanished hours before.

"Not a single tear, but they're there. I know they are. He's just sitting there, drinking and mumbling some shit about how sorry he is over and over again. It's like the poor kid's lost his whole world." Bobby walked into the room and sat heavily on the chair. "I just wish he would talk to us and not shut us out."

"He _has_ lost his whole world, Bobby—Sam's gone, now little Sammy, and Naomi's more or less shut him out completely. It can't be easy on him." Lola's flicked back out of the window to Naomi_._

_For the love of God, the only thing stopping me from dragging her ass in that living room and locking the door is that I know she'd kill him if she was left alone in a room with him right now._

"Yeah, this guilt of his is gonna be the death of him—he's blaming himself, probably more than Naomi is at this point." Bobby slowly raised his eyes to meet Lola's who nodded solemnly.

"I don't get why they can't help each other through this—I mean, they're married. I know she doesn't always see it like that when he leaves to go on hunts and she's left holding the baby, but they _are_ married, and they _do_ need each other and love each other. This is stupid." Lola almost snapped, the familiar feeling of anger over this topic bubbling away through her stomach. "You don't see it the way I do, when they're together, usually between a day or two after he gets here and the day before he leaves again. They're like a real couple, just…" Lola sighed heavily, "it's beyond a joke now, why can't they see they need each other and that the best way to get through this is to let the other in?"

_And maybe I'm being louder than I should be, and I should maybe cut them some slack, but if this is what she needs to hear to get through that stupid wall that she's spent the last three years building, then so be it. _

"Lola, not now, they don't need this. Let them work it out their own way, in their own time," Bobby warned as he stood up again, shaking his head and walking back out of the door and pausing before entering the living room.

_But things won't _get_ fixed if we do it their way, _Lola thought sadly as she resumed her watch over Naomi.

* * *

Dean knew someone was in the room with him now. Besides the creak of the door as it opened and closed, he could feel someone else's presence, and he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that it wasn't Naomi.

"Dean, son." _Bingo._ "Why don'tcha come into the kitchen and have some coffee, sober up a little, huh?" Bobby tried.

"No thanks, I'm fine." Dean replied, eyes solely focused on the photograph on the mantle and the presents under the tree beside it. _Why the hell would I wanna sober up? I'm not fucking drunk enough, yet._

"Dean, come on, son, please." Bobby tried again, hand hovering over Dean's shoulder, as if unsure how Dean would react to the touch.

"I've lost one, Bobby—I'm not losing another one."

"Dean?" Bobby's hand came to rest on Dean's shoulder, as Dean turned his head to look up at him with eyes so lost and pain filled that Bobby's own heart clenched in response.

"I already lost one Sammy, Bobby, I won't lose another one. I can't," Dean whispered defiantly, his gaze dropping back down to the floor.

"We won't, I promise. I made the call, and she's on her way, planning to take a cab straight here as soon as she lands. Everything's been taken care of, nothing for you to worry about. But you need to keep your strength up for when we do find him." Bobby stated with a small smile, eyes wandering to the almost empty bottle of Jack sitting on the floor next to Dean's foot.

_If,_ Dean thought darkly. _If we find him. The chances are we won't, and if she didn't hate me then, she'll definitely hate me now. God how could I have been so stupid, I knew coming back so soon was a bad idea. Especially after what happened in Boston. Damn it, Dean, once a screw up, always a screw up._

"How long will that take?" Dean asked impatiently, the need to prove to the one person that mattered in life that he still had around that he wouldn't let her down this time fuelling him.

"Well the flight leaves…" Bobby checked his watch, "should have left by now so…about three hours max." Bobby smiled gently down at him and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was then Dean let the first tear fall, only to wipe it away as fast as it fell, and got to his feet wobbling slightly as he pushed past the older man into the kitchen just as the back door opened, and Naomi walked into the kitchen.

"It's snowing." she whispered absently, her fingers clutching the sodden bear to her tightly. "It doesn't smell like him anymore."

"Come on, let's get you out of these wet clothes huh?" Lola supplied into the awkward tension Naomi's presence had created. Naomi shook her head and walked towards Bobby, pushing past Dean.

"When will she get here, Bobby?" Naomi asked as she shivered uncontrollably, flinching from Dean's touch when he tried to pull her into him.

"Soon." Bobby smiled gently at her when she nodded and walked past him into the hall and up the stairs, no doubt heading into Sammy's room. Dean set his jaw and snatched up his leather jacket, pulling it on before walking out of the door Naomi had just come in, slamming it behind him.

"This is gonna be one hell of a Christmas." Lola shook her head sadly and made to follow Naomi when his hand stopped her. "What?"

"Let me talk to her—_you_ go talk to _him_." Bobby stepped backwards and Lola nodded.

"Right. You know, if this doesn't work, God only knows what will." Lola sighed softly and grabbed for her coat as she made her way out of the back door.

* * *

"Hey," Lola whispered softly as she made her way over to the swing-set where Dean was sitting. He didn't respond to her, a simple quirk of his lips and then nothing. "Why don't you come back inside? It's freezing out here," she told him softly, crouching down in front of him and resting her hands on his knees.

"I'm fine," Dean replied automatically, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

"Dean, come on, you'll catch your death out here, tough guy or not. Naomi needs you—come on," Lola murmured, but Dean shook his head.

"Nah, she doesn't need me—what have I ever done for her, huh? What have I ever done besides bring her a whole lot of trouble? No, it's better that I'm out here," Dean said emotionlessly, his voice contradicting the look of anger in his eyes.

"Dean, she's just hurting right now—she's looking for someone to blame, and you're the easy out. Don't let her fool you—she needs you right now. Just like you need her."

Dean turned his head away, and Lola reached up to cup his cheek, gently turning his face back to hers. "You can't fool us, and neither can she. It's gonna be alright, I know it." Lola soothed, thumb stroking over his cheek bone.

"You don't know that!" Dean snapped angrily, pushing away form her and walking down to the far end of the garden with only a barely noticeable stagger in his step. _Yeah Dean, I can totally see that. _Lola sighed as she sat on the swing as Dean took a swing at the brick wall, fist grazing the wall and not impacting straight on as he had obviously intended. _Come on Dean, don't let this do this to you, you need to let her see what this is doing to you, let her help you. Help her to help herself. Help each other through this, for everyone's sake._

* * *

Naomi looked at the unmade bed that her four-year-old had been in only a few hours prior, her body cold and her heart aching as she stood there in the doorway of Sammy's room. She knew her reaction to Dean was almost acceptable but cruel all the same. It was more than cruel, if she was honest—it was horrible and nasty. But she couldn't let him touch her. Not right now, not after everything.

_Stop being such a bitch and go speak to your husband. _

"Naomi?" The voice startled her and she spun round, clasping a hand to her chest.

"Bobby, you scared me." Naomi let out a nervous laugh, a small raw sound that she didn't realize came from her.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I just wanted to come and see you." Bobby smiled and wrapped his arms around the young woman, who let herself be held as she sobbed into his shirt. "That's it, let it all out," Bobby muttered into her hair.

_He isn't Dean._

The thought hit Naomi, hard and sudden-like. Bobby didn't smell like Dean, he didn't hold her like Dean did, he didn't sound like Dean when he whispered things to her. Naomi pushed back, her body shaking from the cold, both within and without.

"I.." she hiccupped, "Where's Dean? I need Dean," she managed between sobs, sinking to her knees as Bobby went with her, slipping his cell out from his pocket. "Dean!" she half yelled, her tears beginning to fall with increasing speed, her fingers raking through her hair as she resisted allowing him to wrap his arms around her.

_Everything's all so wrong, I'm gonna lose them both, I've lost them both._ Naomi reached blindly to her left, seeking out the soft fabric of her son's blanket, the soft patchwork blanket that she had spent hours making beside Dean's bedside when he was…._when I was losing him… _

_Naomi sat by Dean's bedside, his hand clutched in hers, the machine that was beeping along with his heartbeat the only noise in the room, the only noise in the whole corridor. Despite the sometimes eerie silence, though, she knew he was still with her. She knew, because when she spoke to him or touched him, his heart rate would increase slightly, and when she was quiet or absent for awhile, it would return to the same slow, steady beat. The medical staff was baffled as to how they couldn't get any reaction from him, whereas she had only to enter the room for him to respond. _

"_Hey, sweetheart, I'm just going to pop out for a little bit, an hour tops—you know the drill. Behave for them, and don't be going anywhere." _As if he actually could._ Naomi moved from the bed, Lola had said something to her earlier that now didn't seem so absurd, the walls were bare and cold and pale and so clinical that when Dean woke up, he would have a fit. So if she got pictures of his girl, and even maybe some music band posters, he would feel more at home. _

_Naomi swallowed hard and leaned over Dean, placing a small kiss on his forehead before pulling the woollen wrap around her shoulders and picking up her bag and walking out of the door._

_...._

_The familiar increase in his heartbeat greeted her when she walked into the room, a light box of supplies in tow. "Hey, baby, I'm back." Naomi smiled as she walked over to him and placed the box down on the chair before kissing his mouth past the tubes. "So, that bitch, Nurse Willingham, wouldn't let me put anything on your walls, so I resorted to an alternative," she told him as she begin to pull out fabric squares, laying them across the foot of his bed. "Now try not to choke on the tubes when you laugh, but I decided to make you a patchwork blanket—not a quilt, a blanket." There was a stutter in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and Naomi knew he had heard her._

"_Come on, Dean, wake up for me angel, please?" Naomi took his hand again and rested against the bed. _Dean shouldn't be like this, he shouldn't be this weak, he should be strong and full of life, not lying here in this hospital bed, fighting for his life. _Dean's fingers tightened around Naomi's and she bit back the tears that were threatening to spill over and slide ceaselessly down her tired face. _

"_What is it Dean? You can't wake up? You're not ready? What?" Naomi grabbed for his other hand but nothing. His heart rate didn't increase, his breathing didn't change and he didn't hold her hand again. Not until she was halfway through the blanket, the soft almost silken material, slipping as she tried in vain to keep her eyes open and keep stitching. Naomi's eyes strayed from the piece of material long enough to catch the slight twitch of his fingers on the bed and she let the tears fall when his heart began to race, only to slow down when she touched his hand and kissed his knuckles._

"_Don't you ever leave me again, Dean." it was a command. Naomi knew it. A comatose Dean knew it. And the little boy she had growing inside her knew it too, and for once, he was on his mother's side in this one. Naomi brought both hands up to hold Dean's hand, the soft material resting between her palm and his. _

Naomi's fingers touched the cool cotton of the duvet, but not coming into contact with the blanket, the very same blanket that had been on Sammy's crib when they'd brought him home for the first time, the same blanket that was as much a part of Sammy's room as Sammy himself. The sudden realization of its absence only shook her further.

_Who ever took my baby wanted to make sure I had very little left of him, make me realise that I was losing him, losing them both. I can't lose them, I won't. _

* * *

Dean heard the music and looked around, confused as to where it was coming from, he was pretty sure he hadn't had _that_ much Jack. His eyes finally settled on the cell phone that was sitting on the little table next to the swing-set.

"Lola, who is it?" he asked gruffly, wincing at the roughness in his voice as he began to take tentative steps towards where she was now sitting on a swing.

"Uh," Lola reached over to grab at the cell. "It's Bobby?" Lola whispered perplexed, holding out the phone to Dean as he made his way over to her and flipped it open.

_Why the hell would he be calling me? _Dean wondered somewhat hazily as he took the phone from her_._

"Yeah?"

"Son, get your ass up here—_now." _There was a firmness, an almost fear in Bobby's voice that shook Dean to the core, and he did as he was told, flying into the house, only stopping to grab the .45 from the top of the fridge, behind the cereal, before climbing the stairs two at a time, a very worried Lola chasing after him.

Dean burst into the room, skidding as he reached the doorway only to be almost floored by the sight he saw. There were no demons, no ghosts, no evil spirits or creatures trying to kill anyone, just a really lost and broken woman kneeling in the middle of the floor, sobbing, so caught up in her pain that she didn't even notice that he'd come in. Dean let the gun fall from limp fingers to crash to the floor with a clatter of metal on hard wood, his eyes never leaving Naomi as he made his way slowly into the room, stopping in front of her and crouching down cautiously, waiting for her to push him away again. When Naomi didn't react, he cupped her jaw in his hand and waited again for her to pull away, to yell at him, startled when she pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around him tightly, pleading with him not to leave her again. Dean pulled her into him, whispering words into her hair as he rocked her back and forth.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Naomi sobbed into his shoulder after he had settled onto the rug and pulled her into his lap.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?" _This isn't your fault-- it's all mine baby, please don't do this to yourself. _Dean looked into those blue depths and a sad smile graced his features before he exhaled and placed a kiss against her forehead, resting his head on top of hers.

"He used to pretend he was you, you know," Naomi murmured. "It was uncanny how like you he could get," she told him absently.

"Really?" _How is that even possible, I'm not even around enough for him to properly know who I am let alone copy me…_ Dean kept up the pretence of calmness and smirked against the top of her head.

"Yeah, he used to do that like you, too."

"Do what?"

"That smirk. He would put on his little leather jacket and his toy guns and run around the living room; He'd jump over the sofas, crawl under the tables, ducking and diving." Naomi wiped the tear that fell from her eye and breathed out. "He was so quiet about it, too, and he would pull that sulky brooding face you pull when I told him it was time to put everything away. He's so protective of me too, Dean, it's like having you here all the time." Her voice trailed off slightly as her fingers slipped down his arm to play with the cuff of his jacket.

"You got him a leather jacket?" Dean asked surprised.

"Yeah, he wanted one—he wanted to be like his daddy." Naomi snuggled closer into Dean.

"Well, he's not going to be like me when he grows up, I'm going to make sure of that." Dean shifted slightly, causing Naomi to shift in his arms and pain to spread through his body, from his ribs, to his chest and shoulder, then down his spine in a sharp shot. _Shit, I really need to get something for this pain, come on Dean, don't show weakness, that was rule number two, right after always watch out for Sammy. Just because you couldn't keep that one doesn't mean you can't keep the rest._

"If we get him back—Dean, are you alright?" Naomi sat up, having caught the wince on Dean's face as she moved.

"Yeah, just a little sore." He smiled a small smile before climbing slowly to his feet, cradling his ribs as he reached a hand down to help her up.

"Let me take a look," Naomi said in a small voice, reaching for his shirt when she stood.

"It's fine, I promise." Dean smirked, well tried to smirk at her. Naomi didn't push the subject and simply took his hand, allowing him to lead her downstairs and into the living room.

"Hey," Lola smiled at them, her body tensing as she shot a worried glance at Bobby.

"What?" Naomi asked, making her way over to the window and sitting on the ledge, watching as the snow fell again in thick snowflakes, her precious car being covered in the white powder.

"Nothing," Lola said quickly, earning a sigh from Naomi as she let her head fall onto the window.

"I'll go make tea." Lola supplied and al but raced out of the room, grabbing Bobby and dragging him behind her.

"Is there something going on in there? They seem…together…" Lola tried off, realising just how silly that notion sounded. Bobby looked at her, a confused look on his face. "I know how that sounded, but of late… well… they haven't exactly been--" Lola was cut off when Naomi yelled from the living room.

"SHE'S HERE!" Naomi bounded into the hallway, scrambling for the door handle as Lola, Bobby and Dean looked on.

"Oh my," the woman remarked, before breaking into a sympathetic smile. "Come here, child." She opened her arms and pulled Naomi into a tight hug. Letting her cry into her shoulder, gently walking her back into the house. Dean stood there, helplessly, as he watched his wife break down in her arms before snapping into action and going to get her bag from the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Naomi sobbed, fingers clenching and unclenching alternately in her jacket.

"It's alright," the woman soothed, Dean's eyes lifting from the door step to Naomi and back again.

"Missouri." Bobby smiled softly at her and she nodded back, her hand making soothing circles on Naomi's back as Dean silently shut the door and allowed Lola to take the bag from him.

"My name's—"

"Lois, or Lola—yes, that's right, you prefer Lola." Missouri smiled at her, and Lola nodded before walking past them and up the stairs into the remaining spare bedroom.

"Come on through." Bobby stated, taking charge of the situation when neither of the Winchesters made a move. Naomi couldn't speak and Dean looked as though he would pass out from exhaustion, pain, or alcohol—or most likely all three—if he even thought about saying anything.

"Dean," Naomi whispered desperately, pushing away from Missouri and into Dean's arms, a small sigh escaping her lips when he wrapped his arms around her and nodded at Bobby to take Missouri through to the living room.

"It's gonna be okay now, baby," Dean murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion, Naomi raised her eyes to his and cupped his jaw before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and taking his hand, linking their fingers together as they followed Lola into the living room.

* * *

Missouri sat at the edge of the seat and waited for Naomi and Dean to enter the living room and settle down before saying anything.

_Poor boy looks like hell, all those emotions all at once.. She's not exactly helping him, either. I'd rather not tell her the truth just yet, but it has to be done. _"Can I see the boy's room, now?" Missouri asked and Naomi nodded, wiping fiercely at her eyes.

"Sure, it's this way," she said as she moved to stand, her fingers still clutching Dean's in a vice-like grip.

"How about you two stay here and this gentleman will show me the way?" Missouri spoke softly but firmly, looking at Bobby expectantly.

"Okay…" Bobby drawled and stood up, walking by Missouri and a silent Naomi who slowly sat down again, curling against Dean's side and biting down hard on her lip so as to fight back more tears. Missouri took one last look at the couple and flashed a reassuring smile at Lola before following Bobby out of the door and up the staircase.

"In here." He indicated the door, and Missouri nodded grimly before taking a deep breath, stealing herself for what she was about to encounter.

"Oh, yes, I see now," she said, already picking up on the residual traces of energy behind the door. She swallowed hard and turned the handle of the door, slowly walking in. "Oh, Robert, this is…this is terrible..." she whispered quietly and Bobby edge closer.

"What is it?" he asked hesitantly, twisting the brim of his cap in his hands.

_You don't wanna know, and I know you don't. _

"It's…not what you all think," she stated simply. _And I ain't gonna go into details, something like this will blow this family apart._

"Not what we all think?" Bobby pressed. _Oh take the hint._

"It's not a simple energy, Robert, it's more… elusive. It's not as black and white as you think it is. He was taken out of the window, right?" Missouri asked as she stopped halfway from the door to the window.

"Yeah."

"I thought so. You need to be ready," Missouri told him seriously, and Bobby's eyes closed.

"You know who has him?" Bobby grit out, his voice getting thicker by the second as he opened his eyes to look at the bed.

_Little Samuel is like a grandson to you, isn't he? _

"Yes, I have a pretty good idea. And I think I know why." _But I'm not one hundred percent sure. But if I'm right, God help them all. _

_

* * *

_Naomi jumped up out of Dean's arms the second she heard Bobby's heavy boot hit the bottom step.

_Tell me you know who did it, tell me you know who we have to find, who we have to kill, to get my baby back._

Naomi felt Dean's arm snake around her waist and she relaxed into it. _Maybe I have been too hard on him, he is trying. I know this is hurting him as much as it's hurting me, I need him. Maybe it's time to sort things out with him being away a lot and anything else that may need talked out and start again when we find our boy._

"Naomi." Missouri's soft tone broke into Naomi's thoughts, and she looked blankly at the woman who was now sitting opposite her. "It was definitely a demon of some sorts._"_

"A demon?" Naomi asked_. Oh God, no, please, no._

"Yes…"

"A demon that goes by the name of Sam, by any chance?" _Why didn't I see it before now? Of course it had to be him, he's the only one that would want to do this to Dean._ Naomi snapped bitterly, spinning away from Dean and getting to her feet.

"Naomi, come now, this isn't Dean's fault," Missouri began, reaching out for her hand only to still when Naomi jerked away from her.

"You better hope to God that your brother doesn't harm a hair on my son's head, 'cause I won't only kill him, I'll kill you as well," she yelled, inches from Dean's face.

"Naomi!" Lola screamed, stepping forward to restrain her friend, flinching at the resounding slap of flesh on flash as Naomi's hand made contact with Dean's face. "Naomi!" she shouted again, grabbing her wrist before Dean could spot a matching mark on his other cheek. "Stop it!" she bit out, roughly pulling Naomi into the hallway before shoving her into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you!?" Naomi demanded as she breathed heavily.

"What's wrong with _me? _I didn't just slap my husband for no fucking reason," Lola said harshly, walking over to Naomi and standing in front of her.

"Sammy's gone—what part of that don't you understand!?" Naomi screeched again, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"He's missing, Naomi—but hitting Dean, taking it out on Dean, _blaming_ Dean for everything isn't going to bring him back any sooner." Lola's cheeks were flushed red with anger, as she stood waiting for Naomi's response.

"Whose side are you _on?_" Naomi whispered quietly as she pulled the chair out and sat on it.

"Naomi, this isn't a game—it's not about sides. I get that this is killing you, 'cause I'm hurting, too. Bobby's hurting, and Dean _already_ blames himself for this—he doesn't need you piling any more on him. Sammy is Dean's son, too, don't you get that? I know he's not around as much as he should be, but you know that he has always put his family before himself. Dean's job has always been to protect his family, you said it yourself once. Can't you realize that he sees this as a failure on his part? He doesn't need you to point it out to him, Naomi. The thing is, though, both you and I _know_ it has nothing to do with him." Lola's voice was barely audible as the tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Sam's his brother." Naomi said, her fingers moving to play with the gold band only to remember that it wasn't there.

"Yeah, so? That doesn't make Dean the one to blame in this, and Naomi, put your wedding ring back on unless you want to lose him for good. He would never do anything to hurt you intentionally, he loves you to death. Maybe you should come to grips with that before this ends in one horrible mess. I know you love him, too. I know how you cry yourself to sleep at night when he's not around…Naomi, all I want is for you not to push him away. You're all he's got left, and I know if you let this fester, it'll never go away, and it'll hurt more if he does leave. Just, don't push him away. Let him in, don't think of all the ways to blame him, or all the things he's done that have hurt you. Think about all the things he's done for you that have made you smile, made you laugh, when he's made everything okay. You can't hold this against him. I won't stand by and watch you do it." Lola covered Naomi's hand with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I just need some time." Naomi turned away and got up from her chair and walked to the window removing the ring and placing it back on her wedding finger. _Maybe she has a point, maybe I'm just looking for someone to blame, if I want to blame someone it should be Sam. This really isn't Dean's fault. Oh fuck. What if it's too late? What if I've ruined things with Dean beyond all repair? _

* * *

Dean watched as Lola pulled Naomi away, the sound of her slap echoing into the room and his mouth filled with the warm, coppery taste of blood. Waiting until the door slammed closed, Dean slowly got to his feet, eyes never leaving the floor as he made his way out of the living room and up the staircase to the bathroom. Dean spat the blood into the sink and leaned heavily against the cool porcelain of the sink, his head bowed between his shoulders as he closed his eyes to the world, tried to shut it out. But Naomi's words continued to echo in his head, even as he tried to rid himself of the feeling of nausea that was building in his gut.

_My own brother took Sammy. He kidnapped him. What kind of father am I? I let my only son get kidnapped right under my fucking nose! Small wonder my wife doesn't want anything to do with me—all I've ever brought her is pain and grief. Damn it, how did I lose control over everything? How did I let this happen? _

"Snap out of it, Dean Winchester." Missouri's voice was firm but gentle as she rested her hand on his arm. "Oh honey, come here," she said, her tone softening as she looked up at him sadly. Before Dean could back away, Missouri had wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. "Stop fighting me, Dean. You Winchester boys are all the same—always trying to be tough. Haven't you realized that even the world's best hunter can't be strong all the time," she scolded as she released him and took his hand, leading him into Sammy's bedroom before going over and picking up the baseball glove and ball and handed them to Dean who smiled softly.

"Shortstop," he whispered quietly, walking over to the bed and sitting down, twisting the ball in his hands. "He was about two when I first taught him how to throw the ball the right way. Hell, he was probably a bit too little, I know, but it was something I just felt like I had to do, you know? I took him out to the backyard and told him to stand there, and I went and crouched down at the steps. I remember Naomi was standing at the door with this huge smile on her face—damn, she was pretty…" he said, shaking his head sadly, feeling as though the happiness they'd all felt was now irretrievably lost. Catching Missouri watching him, he cleared his throat, determined to finish, though he couldn't really say why. "So I told him to throw the ball to me, and he looked at it in his hands and then looked at me and smiled, and hell if I didn't know exactly what he was gonna do with it." Dean smiled sadly at the memory. "Luckily I blocked it or there would be nothing very manly about me right now—my kid can throw," he said with quiet pride. "My little Shortstop."

He looked away, his eyes roaming over the pictures of the Impala and the Mustang, him and Naomi, Naomi and Sammy, him and Sammy, all three of them together, one of Bobby, and one of Naomi's dad. Dean's eyes fell to Sammy's first picture, the one of him in the hospital only hours after his birth, and he looked away quickly.

"I've fucked things up with my family, Missouri," he said softly, staring up at her with pain-filled eyes. "And I don't know if I can fix it."

"Don't you lose hope, baby—we're gonna find your boy. And you know Naomi loves you. She's just in a horrible place right now, and she's looking for someone to lash out at. She needs you right now no matter how much you think otherwise. And you just said it yourself—she had a huge smile on her face that day—just like everyday you're with her. You make her happy, Dean. Do you think she honestly would have stayed with you this long if she didn't love you? If she didn't want to be with you? You didn't fall for her because she was pretty, Dean, you fell for her because of her soul. She was fiery and feisty and full of life, and none of that's changed. You need to talk to that girl," Missouri rested her hand on Dean's shoulder again and he flinched away from her.

"She doesn't want to speak to me," Dean bit out, bitterly reminded of that fact by the lingering sting in his cheek.

"Then make her _listen_."

"How do you propose I do that?" Dean looked at her.

"I'll hit you with a spoon if you keep that up, boy. Now go talk to your wife. She'll listen." Missouri nodded and got up, leaving Dean sitting there. "Oh and Dean?" she stopped at the door and looked around

"Yeah?"

"Let her patch you up." Missouri smiled at him and walked back down the stairs as Dean smiled softly, still toying with the ball in his hands. "And leave that alcohol alone or I'll come after you myself!" she called after him.

* * *

"Hey." Naomi smiled up at Missouri from her perch on the kitchen counter, "You want some tea or something to eat?" she asked quickly, hands trembling in her lap, as she tried to fill the empty space around her with even more empty words and Missouri nodded.

"Why certainly. Just tea, dear." Missouri walked over to the table and pulled out a chair and sat down as Naomi slid off of the counter and over to the kettle. "I was talking to Dean," Missouri ventured and smiled as she shook her head sadly when Naomi visibly tensed.

"Mug or a cup?" "Is he alright?" Naomi asked quietly, before hesitantly asking; "Is he alright?"

"Cup, and of course he isn't. His son has been abducted, he blames himself, and so does his wife. He thinks he's a failure."

"He's not," Naomi admitted, and Missouri nodded.

"I'm not the one you should be telling that to, and you do realise his body isn't going to be able to cope much longer if he doesn't get some rest."

"What?" Naomi spun round at that statement, almost knocking the cup off of the work surface.

"I know he hasn't told you much about his last hunt, because he doesn't want to talk about it, but he does need some TLC, some painkillers, and a few stitches." Missouri added with a small smile at the relief on Naomi's face.

"I should go speak to him, shouldn't I?" Naomi looked at Missouri, the crushing reality hitting her like a freight train.

"I think you should, and take up some painkillers and the first aid kit when you go. Some actual painkillers and not the bottle of Jack Daniels he's been using all night as a substitute.," Missouri told her with a pointed look and Naomi nodded, understanding for the first time exactly how Dean was feeling.

* * *

Naomi took a deep breath before she nudged open the bedroom door, giving the figure on the bed a sad smile. "Hi," she whispered quietly.

"Hey," he cleared his throat, wincing as he turned around to look at her properly. "Listen, Naomi, I'm--"

"No, Dean, _I'm_ sorry." Naomi shook her head as she walked towards him. "I've been a Class A bitch to you, and it wasn't fair of me. Sammy's your son, too, and just because I'm with him every single day doesn't mean that you're feeling this any less than I am, and I'm sorry."

Naomi bit back the tears at the look on Dean's face, green eyes wide and sparkling, telling her all the things he couldn't say. She watched the war he was fighting with himself in those eyes until she couldn't take it any more and dumped the first aid kit on the bed and walked around the foot of the bed to kiss him soundly on the lips. Naomi felt Dean's hands come up to rest on her hips—tight enough to leave bruises—but at that moment, Naomi didn't care.

Dean hissed as her hands slipped lower, gripping onto his shirt, her fingernails digging into the sensitive skin beneath. "Watch the packaging," he grit out, and Naomi pulled back.

"Take it off—both shirts—and lie down," Naomi half commanded as she leaned over to open the first aid kit.

"This is gonna hurt, right?," Dean asked her, wincing and hissing as he pulled both his shirt and t-shirt over his head at the same time.

"Christ, Dean," Naomi gasped as the true extent of Dean's injuries were revealed to her; the purple, almost black bruises marring his tanned skin as well as the cuts and gashes that littered his chest. "What the hell happened to you?" Naomi knelt on the bed and let her fingers roam gently over his back and chest.

She lifted her eyes from a particularly deep and half stitched gash on his chest to his eyes, the green orbs had lost their usual sparkle of mischief and were now filled with pain and almost fear as he shook his head minutely, silently begging her not to push for the answers she was asking for.

"You know what? Its fine," she told him with a small smile. "I'm not even sure I _want_ to know…but if and when you wanna talk about it, then we will." Naomi placed a soft kiss against his forehead and reached for the box. "You know, I think you should go for a shower first." Naomi stated and stood, allowing Dean to do the same. "It'll loosen you up, get some of the soreness out."

"I love you," he whispered suddenly into the room, and Naomi nodded with a smile.

"I love you, too," she told him, leaning up and kissed him again. "Now you go and get a shower and I'll go get you something for the pain for when you come out."

Dean lifted Naomi's hand and placed a kiss against her knuckles. "I don't know what I would do without you, you know that?" he sighed, and Naomi smiled tearfully.

"Funny that, I was thinking the same about you."

Dean nodded and turned toward the en-suite bathroom as Naomi turned silently and headed to the door.

"Naomi!" He called out suddenly, causing her to spin around.

"Yeah?" she asked as Dean made his way over to her, taking her smaller hands in his.

"I'm sorry I let this happen—I didn't think…He's my brother—I should've found him a long time ago, I know. But I'll fix it, baby, I swear. I'll find them, and I'll get Sammy back." And at that moment, staring into those pain-filled green eyes, Naomi couldn't help but wonder which 'Sammy' he was talking about.

* * *

**Wellllll? What did you think? Leave me a little review, wont you? **

**Also, I have a little plan and surprise in the next chapt, so stay tuned ;)**

**K**

**xox**


	3. A Stubborn Reality

**A/N: Hey guys, so sorry I haven't update in like months....things have just been really hectic at school with tests and things like that but it looks to be alright until the end of Jan.... lol so yeah I'm so sorry, but i hope this makes up for it!**

**Thanks to the wonderful Camlann who beta'd this, all remaining mistakes are my own tho! LOL**

**Also, thanks to MilaMoorea, 9DeanWinchester9, C, and Camlann who keep reviewing! LOl and everyone else who has me on alert. **

**Right, I have a sound track for this story now LOL! for this chapter you will need the following:**

**Broken Angel - Hanson**

**If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red**

**Say Goodbye - Eva Cassidy (In a Non-Wincesty way) LOL**

**Okay, so reviews are welcome and encouraged! here's the chapter, how you enjoy**

**much love**

**K**

**xox**

* * *

A Stubborn Reality

He didn't understand what he was doing at that point in time or more precisely what he was doing _there, _that much was obvious, even to the most oblivious person. The old house was deserted, a far cry from the six-bedroom house nestled in New York where he had spent the majority of his three short years. As the little boy blinked his eyes awake, gazing around the open room furiously, not really afraid yet, just confused as to why he was _there_ and not in his own bed asleep.

"Momma?" the little voice called out into the eerie sunrise-light that was filtering through the thin closed curtains. "Daddy?" he called out again, untangling his little body from the blanket he was wrapped in. "Are you kissin' Momma again? You not s'posed to, 'member?" Sammy's little feet hit the cold floor and he frowned, his little pouty lips pursing together and his little tanned forehead scrunching up as he looked around him, the cruel realization finally dawning on him that even though this definitely wasn't his house or his bed, his parents didn't seem to be there. _Rabbit is here, and so is Blanket, but where__'__s Momma and Daddy? _Sammy's bottom lip began to tremble as he reached backwards and clutched onto the rabbit's ear. "Momma? Daddy?" he asked again quietly before yelling one final time, "MOMMA!" Sammy climbed up onto the bed again and huddled against the wall, wrapping himself into his blanket as he bravely fought back tears.

***

"You have to go and speak to him, now." The blonde looked over the book she was reading and at the slightly shaggy haired man with the goatee who was sitting across from her, tossing a knife in his hands.

"Yeah, I know, but what am I supposed to say to him? He's just a kid…"

"Hey, it was _your_ idea to bring him here. I was more than happy to keep watch over him when he was with his parents. We don't need him here I said, but _no. _'Bring him here,' you said, 'it'll be fine,' you said, I've got it all sorted—'"

"Why don't you shut the hell up!" he growled, coming to his feet with a liquid grace as he threw the knife at the wall, the metal of the blade sticking into the plaster. "I don't need _you_ of all people telling me how this is supposed to be! This is your fault in the first place!" he bit out, his voice dangerously low.

"My fault? How is this my fault, huh? No one asked you to do this!" she raged, the book flying to the floor in her temper as she, too, stood, facing the man as fire danced in her eyes.

"This _whole_ goddamned mess is your fault, now deal with it!" he barked, arms aggressively flailing through the air.

"This isn't my fucking fault! Why can't you take responsibility for yourself, huh? It's always other people with you, you never make any mistakes—you're too fucking perfect! Grow some balls and be a real man!" she bellowed, eyes falling from the taller man to the child standing in the doorway, clutching the rabbit to him helplessly.

"Hey, little man…" the man swallowed. _This is ridiculous. _

"Who're you?" Sammy stuttered and sniffed, backing away from the man.

"Now you've done it." the blonde glared as she turned away walking towards the little kitchen area.

"I'm your uncle Sam." _Have they ever talked to him about me? _

"My Uncle Sam?" Sammy raised his eyebrows confusedly at him.

"Yeah, I'm your dad's little brother." _They haven__'__t even _mentioned _me around him. Shit, I know I screwed up but come on, I wasn__'__t all _that_ bad. We had some good times, and hell, if it wasn__'__t for me__—__Stay focused on the moment, Sam, _he told himself sternly, returning his attention to the little boy staring at him with suspicion. Sam smiled softly as he took a step towards the little boy in front of him, encouraged that the kid had at least stopped moving backwards, even if he wasn't exactly moving forward either.

"You don't _look_ dead,_ and _you not small. I'm small, so you're big. Like really big _way_ bigger than Daddy, and that's _reaaaaally _big. So you're not little. And you gots hair on your face, a bit like Uncle Bobby, but he gots more, izzat cause you're not old enough yet? My daddy says I'll have hair on my face when I'm big like him." Sammy asked, suddenly curious.

_Dead? They told him I was dead? I don't know whether to feel devastated that they told him I was dead, or to be pleased that they told him about me at all._

"I'm not dead!" Sam snapped back, causing his nephew to jump back. "I'm sorry…" Sam trailed off knowing it was no use. "I am old enough, its…the way I like it." Sam muttered under his breath and watched his nephew's face wrinkle in a thoughtful way before he slipped forward again. _What is it with my nephew and his dad having to be the same? Honestly._

"So you're my not-dead Uncle Sam?" he asked tilting his head to the side and looking up at Sam.

"Yes." Sam said calmly, watching the little boy for a reaction. _He__'__s gonna freak out on me, I just know it. And then what the hell am I supposed to do with him? _

"Oh, okay." Sammy shrugged and stepped even closer to Sam, his head tilting way back to look up at him curiously.

_That's it? No tears? No tantrums? Nothing? He just accepts it and moves on? Or maybe he's going to use this against me for the rest of his life, sort of a 'you kidnapped me and you weren't dead, I'm going to kill you in your sleep' kind of thing. Oh god. What if he does? Like that freaky kid from that TV show that was on the other night, the one that just went around slitting throats of people she didn't like—what if he does that to me?_

"Hey," Sammy's little voice broke into Sam's thoughts and his eyes snapped to his nephew's "My tummy's rumbly since for forever. Can I have my Cheewios now?" he asked with a smile and huge green eyes - eyes that Sam could never deny anything to.

"Okay," Sam nodded, walking to where the blonde was standing, raising an eyebrow at her.

"WAIT!" Sammy shouted, the little patter of his tiny feet running to catch up with Sam's longer strides, small fingers tugging on Sam's pants leg until Sam glanced down at him. "Whose that?" the little boy asked in a stage whisper, gazing up expectantly at Sam.

"That's your Aunt Ruby." Sam smiled down at the little boy who peeked around Sam's long legs at Ruby, who was holding a bowl and a box of Cheerios in her hands.

"Auntie Wuby?" Sammy asked as he stepped out of Sam's shadow and walked slightly closer to the blonde.

"Hey," she smiled brightly at him, "Do you take milk in your cereal?" she asked him as she pulled a chair at the dining table out and patted it for him to come and sit.

"Um, can I gets ice cream, 'stead of Cheewios?" Sammy asked as he pulled himself up onto the chair and leant on the table, fixing an adorable look on Ruby.

"Ice cream for breakfast?" Sam and Ruby asked in unison.

"Uh-huh." Sammy nodded, settling Rabbit lopsidedly on the table beside him as he looked angelically up at them both, massive green orbs shining up at them so hopefully that Sam shrugged and headed for the freezer to take out a tub of ice cream.

"Are you sure we should be giving him ice cream at half-past-nine in the morning, Sam?" Ruby asked as her finger's wrapped around Sam's bicep.

"Sammy, ice cream isn't all that healthy you know…" Sam trailed off and looked at the kid properly.

"So? I wants ice cream…pwease?" Sammy smiled angelically again and Sam opened the door.

"Sam?" Ruby questioned again.

"We have to keep him on our side, I don't want another freak out." Sam grit out quietly and Ruby rolled her eyes, the new hate of having to look after the kid obvious on her features.

"Uncle Sam, are you gonna kiss Wuby now? Momma and Daddy does that all the time. She was fixing up his owies then Daddy was kissin' on Momma—he does that alot." Sammy shook his head as Ruby stifled a laugh at the look on Sam's face. "Where's my momma?" he asked quietly, eyes looking back down to the floor.

_Oh. Shit. Should have expected that one now shouldn't I , how do you explain something like this to a kid his age? How do you explain this to _anyone _let alone a kid? _

"Uh, Sammy , you see the thing is… um….."

"There's some bad stuff happening right now, and your momma asked us to look after you here for a little while," Ruby interjected, smiling at Sammy as she effectively cut off what was sure to be a long, rambling explanation that little Sammy was no doubt not going to understand.

"Momma never said nuffin 'bout _that_—she was fixing Daddy's owies cause him's always gettin' his head banged when he goes away to fight bad guys, and Momma says she's 'prised he has any brains left, and they was coming to watch _Shrek_ with me, but I don't 'member watchin' it, and I woked up here." His face fell as he looked sadly at his rabbit, biting his lip as he swept it off the table and hugged it to his chest.

Before Sam could even begin to reply to the little boy, Ruby walked over to Sammy and crouched down in front of him, obviously still wary of invading his personal space too much.

"I know your momma didn't say anything," she told Sammy, "but she didn't want you to worry or feel sad. It won't be for too long, okay?"

"Okay," Sammy said in a small voice, fingers clutching at Rabbit's ear. "Can I call her?" Ruby looked up at Sam who bit at his bottom lip before finally shrugging.

_Christ, this could be more difficult than I thought, a _lot_ more difficult._

"We'll try and give her a call later, okay?" Ruby smiled, and Sammy nodded, appeased for the moment. "In the mean time, why don't you eat your ice-cream, yeah?" Ruby risked it and ruffled Sammy's hair, pulling back quickly when he tensed and ducked out of her way.

"There you go, little man," Sam smiled as he placed the ice-cream down in front of Sammy and handed him a spoon.

_This is gonna be awkward, at least until he gets used to us… I'm not planning on letting him go very soon._

_

* * *

_

_Whoever let Sammy have ice cream for breakfast should be shot. In the head. With a high caliber rifle…wait…it was me…shit, _Sam thought as he looked around the shambles of the room.

The cushions had long since been sent flying across the room, paper and books had been scattered all over the place, and the knocked-over table and chairs were currently being used as a staging area for Sammy's current game, which Sam didn't even pretend to know what the hell it involved. No one would have believed him if he had told them that his four year old nephew—who was currently screaming, not singing "You Shook Me All Night Long" at the top of his lungs as he played air guitar on his bunny—was giving him a migraine from hell.

_Like father like son, huh? _Sam had to admit there was a lot of Sammy that was pure Dean: the sarcasm—_even for a three year old—_and his stoic never-say-anything way of dealing with things, his fascination to take care of other people before himself—well as much as a three-year-old could—the rabbit got more ice cream than he did—and then there was the way he was constantly moving, running, ducking and diving under and around the furniture. But the most annoying thing he took from his father was the way he effortlessly found some way to annoy the hell out of Sam.

But he was like Naomi, too, though, Sam acknowledged. The eyes may have been all Dean, but the a lot of his features were pure Naomi. Her little ski-slope nose and her pouty lips were definitely there in her son's face, and her patience and her grace were something that Sam was grateful that little Sammy had picked up. But, of course, he _had_ to have inherited a mixture of Dean and Naomi's temperaments, wherein Naomi's reasoning always seemed to be overpowered by the dominant hot-headedness that both parents were guilty of.

"Sammy." Sam said on a weary sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not Sammy, how many times have I gotta tell ya! I'm General shortstop…..General Dewek Shortstop from…." he paused a second, standing still on the sofa. "Far away!" Sammy shouted as he jumped from the worn sofa onto the dusty floorboards and behind the over turned table.

"Well, General Shortstop from far away, do you think this is acceptable?" Sam's hand indicated the mess of the room and Sammy peeked around the table.

"Well…Momma's not here so…uh-huh." he shrugged, "Uncle Sam, get down!" Sammy yelled, diving at Sam's legs and pushing until Sam was crouched down beside him.

"Uh, what are we doing down here?" Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow in question as he looked around the empty living room.

"General Meanie is over there, and he wants to eat us!" Sammy pointed frantically in the direction of the door as he tried to drag Sam over and behind the table again.

_What. The. Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to do this? I dunno how to look after a kid. Hell, I have no memory of even doing this _myself_, I wish Dean was here to handle this shit. Hell, he'd probably join right in— Fuck. Why the fuck did I have to think of him? Oh that's right, I'm looking at his _son_ that I took from his house to protect. As if Dean couldn't protect his family--_

"You're not listenin', Uncle Sam!"Sammy snapped, giving him the angry stare that only Dean knew how to throw his way. "You don't do it right! You're 'posed to p'tend that you're gonna beat up the bad guy!"

"Look, I don't have time for this—I need it quiet in here so I can think. Clean that shit up and go play in your room," Sam told him sternly as he moved to put the table upright again.

"But I'm not finished!" Sammy pouted, arms crossed over his chest. _Damn that kid just _had_ to be able to do that, now I know how Dean felt for all those years I used to throw that at him._

"Why do I gotta clean up?" Sammy asked glaring angrily in Sam's direction.

"Because I said so that's why!" Sam yelled.

"No." Sammy remained adamant. "It's not dark-time yet, and Momma lets me finish first 'fore I clean up. I'm not finished," Sammy insisted, glaring hotly at Sam.

"I don't care what your momma does and doesn't do, Sammy," Sam snapped. "She's not here right now, and she won't ever be again, so you'd better get over the damn attitude and do what I fucking say before I lose my temper!" Sam bellowed, wincing at how loud his voice suddenly seemed in the shell of a room. Lowering his gaze to the clearly frightened little boy, Sam's eyes and tone softened.

_Ah, shit. I just swore at my three year old nephew. _

"Hey, I'm sorry…" he murmured apologetically, but Sammy flinched as Sam went to touch him, backing away as his lower lip trembled.

_Shit! shit! shit! shit! shit!_.

"Sammy—" Sam tried again, but the little boy only continued to back up, shying away from him.

"Hey there, Sammy," Ruby said lightly, walking up behind Sam to approach the little boy with a gentle smile at odds with her usual smirk. With one hand on his shoulder, she gently steered Sam out of the way so that she could approach Sammy.

"Go away!" Sammy yelled, trying to sound braver than he actually was. "Momma said you was bad and she'll come and get me, and my daddy's gonna come and beat you up! You'll see!" Sammy tried to back away further, his body hitting the wall instead.

"Hey, we don't wanna hurt you, and you will see your momma again, I promise. But first, I need you to go into your room and play with your toys, while I talk to your Uncle Sam. Could you do that for me?" Ruby asked, slowing backing away from him as he nodded. "Thank you," she whispered as Sammy grabbed for his rabbit and made a beeline for the door, disappearing into his 'room' and slamming the door behind him.

"What the fuck, Sam?" Ruby asked hotly, spinning around to look him in the eye. Sam raised his eyes to her from the spot they seemed to be glued to on the floor, taking one look at hers before looking back down at the floor again, feeling very much like a chastised five-year-old. "Sam…" Ruby's tone softened slightly, "I get that you miss Dean—but _this_ was _your_ choice. Quit taking it out on the kid and grow a pair."

"Ruby, he's so like Dean. I just can't block it out anymore, I have this…this constant reminder now that this is what's going to happen, that Dean is my brother and I can't be with him because of what I had to do." Sam bit down on his lower lip to stop the tears as Ruby stepped closer to him, her hand hesitantly touching his shoulder.

"Sam, it's gonna be alright, things will be okay. Dean's an ass, but I'm sure he'll come around once you tell him the truth…"

"He should know by now! I left him the goddamned letter! Three years ago, I put that letter in the glove compartment of the Impala—he should know, but instead, he's done _nothing_ to stop it and _nothing_ to protect his son." Sam pushed Ruby away and got to his feet, walking over to the window, "It's his own fault that I have him here, you know. If he had just listened to me, then Sammy would still be with him. I shouldn't have been able to walk into that house and take his son, and I shouldn't have been able to get as far as I did without someone noticing."

"Shut up before you say something you're gonna regret—this is gonna be hard enough without having the kid fighting us every step of the way because he overheard you talking shit," Ruby grit out in a hushed whisper. "This was your choice to have Sammy here, so you're gonna have to live with it." Ruby rested her hand on Sam's shoulder; a gentle touch that blazed in contrast to her fiery temper.

"Ruby." Sam said quietly, "I miss my brother. You have no idea—he was everything to me. He gave up his life for me. He was the one who pulled me out of trouble, out of harm's way, he was the one who made sure I didn't go hungry, who cleaned me up after hunts. Hell, he was the one who gave me a pat on the back and let me go to Stanford, taking all the heat from Dad for it. I can't forget him, and I don't want to, I just… I don't wanna completely lose him. Because if something happens to Sammy, I _know_ I'm gonna lose him—that kid means everything to him, I know it. I need to know that he's happy. Dean's never been _happy,_ never allowed himself to be. He always put other people first and I just don't want him to lose someone else. He deserves to be happy." Sam blinked away the tears as he cleared his throat and walked past Ruby and started to straighten the room up, picking up the remaining chairs and starting to put the bits of paper into a pile.

"Sam, I get it I do. You want Dean to have the white picket fence life that he's never wanted, which is great kudos to you. He's got your trust but what the fuck do I have to do to get it huh? I've stood by you for three years Sam, faced death for you, if you cant trust me by now then what the fuck are we doing here huh?" Ruby pushed the chair violently under the table.

"I do…I will. I just need time, and I need to get this place cleaned up," he finished.

_Yeah right. Like time is _really_ gonna change a damn thing_, Sam thought with a shake of his head_._

_

* * *

_

_When did everything go so wrong? How did things get this fucked up? And why couldn't I try and stop it? _Sam stood against the doorframe, watching his nephew halfheartedly play with the little green army men. _This is so screwed to hell. What is it with this family? It's like we're fucking cursed. Dammit, why can't things just go right for once? Why can't Dean be happy? Why can't he have a normal life? Why can't _I_ have a normal life? Maybe after all this is over, we can finally have our chance at being normal. And happy. No more running, no more hiding…_

"Whatchu want?" Sammy asked, breaking into Sam's train-of-thought as he gazed up at his uncle with glowing hatred in his green eyes.

"I came to say I'm sorry," Sam said truthfully, stepping away from the door frame and taking a calculated step into the room. Sammy simply glared at him and turned back to his toys, ignoring Sam's presence once again. "Look, Sammy, I don't expect you to understand—hell, I don't even expect you to _try_ and understand, but you have to stay here."

"Don't want to," Sammy said, still not looking up at his uncle.

"I know. But you'll be safer here."

"NO! I's safe with Momma and Daddy! My daddy's strong, and him's gonna beat you up cause him's better than you! Daddy can keeps me safe!" Sammy jumped to his feet, his little hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Sammy, listen to me—I know your daddy is strong, but he can't keep you safe right now," Sam said evenly, trying to hold onto his temper even as his patience was wearing thin. "And I know you want to go home, but you're gonna have to stay here with me and Ruby so that we can keep you safe. Do you understand?"

"NO!" Sammy screamed, racing over to Sam and hitting him repeatedly on his legs until Sam scooped him up into his arms to stop him from hitting him.

"Hey, that's enough. Look, I know you hate me right now, but one day you're gonna thank me for this!" Sam kept a firm hold of the wriggling child as Sammy simultaneously cried to be put down and screamed how much he hated Sam.

_Damn._ _Is this normal? 'Cause, seriously? This kid is nine kinds of crazy—how the hell do parents deal with this shit? Or is he only doing this because I'm not his parents? _

Sammy finally stopped struggling in Sam's grip, his tiny hands coming to rest against the older man's shoulder.

"You alright now?" Sam whispered as he turned his head to face Sammy, one hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "OW!" Sam yelled when Sammy sunk his teeth deep into his hand, before dissolving into pitiful sobs in Sam's arms.

"Ruby!" he yelled and swiftly turned towards the door when she appeared. "Take him," he commanded, practically throwing Sammy into her arms as he stormed out of the house and left Ruby to calm the hysterical three-year-old. _I have got to get out of here._

* * *

_Fuck. What am I supposed to do now?! He'll never trust me and God knows he'll be here long enough. I should have known bringing him out here was a bad idea. Ruby told me it would be. I know it would be. I guess I ignored the warnings and let my feelings take over. _

"_My daddy's strong, and him's gonna beat you up cause him's better than you! Daddy can keeps me safe!! _

Sammy's words bounced around Sam's empty head, each echo getting louder than the last_. And hell if he isn__'__t right__—__Dean _is_ better than me, I know that. And how bad are things when even a three-year-old knows that? Why the fuck did I bring this kid here? I don__'__t know shit about taking care of a kid, much less Dean__'__s offspring, who if he__'__s not destroying the room is screaming his head off. I don__'__t have a fucking clue how to deal with this. Hell, this was Dean__'__s forte, always was. Shit. I should take him back and let Dean take care of this…But letting Dean take care of it is what got us to this in the first place, _Sam thought angrily. _If he had just fucking listened to me when I tried to warn him, it wouldn__'__t have gotten this bad. I know it wouldn__'__t have. _

_Why the hell does everything always come back to Dean?_

_

* * *

_

Standing outside the front door, Sam glanced down at his watch: seven-thirty. He had been gone most of the day, just trying to get things sorted in his head, trying to remind himself that bringing Sammy here in the first place was still a good idea. He was under no illusions now that Dean would indeed come looking for his son. _Maybe I__'__m handling this all wrong…maybe I should set something up, meet Dean somewhere. Somewhere that__'__s not here. Somewhere where Dean can__'__t come back and destroy everything out of spite and rage. _Because that's who Dean was, Sam knew. _Maybe it__'__s no longer how he_ is_, though…_Sam pondered, wincing as he accidentally closed his fingers around the door handle with the hand that still bore painful teeth marks, courtesy of his one and only nephew.

"Sammy, it's time for you to go to bed," he heard Ruby tell the little boy as she let out a weary sigh.

"NO, is not time for bed!" Sammy yelled hotly, and Sam shook his head, beginning to reconsider his decision to return to the house this early in the evening even as he made his way towards the bedroom.

"Yes, it is," Ruby bit out coldly, and Sam offered her a sympathetic smile.

"You're not the boss of me!" Sammy got to his feet on the mattress, once again balling his fists as he stood against Ruby.

"I am now," she snapped and Sam winced at her tone, _come on Ruby, we gotta keep at least one of us on his good side._

"No! I want my momma! I want my momma!" Sammy screamed furiously , pushing away from Ruby who had tried to take him into her arms. "MOMMA!" he yelled and Sam let out a sigh as he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily.

"Ruby," Sam began, only to back up slightly when the blonde-haired hellion turned to face him with a pissed off expression.

"You know, considering what I am, I've been pretty damn patient with this kid, but I've had enough—you deal with this, or I'm gonna have to teach the kid a few things about pissing off a dem—"

"I got it," Sam told her loudly, cutting off her before she could reveal more than the kid was capable of handling. He stepped aside as she stormed past him and walked down the hall, slamming the door of their bedroom behind her.

"Sammy, please," Sam said, turning to face the teary-eyed three-year-old, "just go to sleep."

"NO! I _want_ my _momma_!" Sammy angrily spat, backing up from Sam.

"How about I read you a story?" Sam tried, looking over at the little bookshelf he had made himself.

"No, _Momma_ always reads me story." Sammy's bottom lip trembled, anger finally becoming too much for the little boy.

"I know. But I was thinking, she would probably want me to read to you since she isn't here, don't you think so?" Sam smiled softly at him as he watched the youngster slide down the wall, arms wrapped around his body in a fashion that Sam could only fathom was supposed to be his arms crossed.

"No." Sammy answered simply, half-heartedly glaring at Sam.

"I asked for that one, didn't I?" Sam muttered to himself, resisting the urge to drag his hand through his hair.

"Does Momma not want me no more? She not love me no more?" Sammy asked suddenly with such a heartbreaking look on his face that Sam swallowed hard to try and stop the tears.

"No, little man, your momma loves you so much—don't ever think she doesn't. That's why she sent you here, so you could be safe. I know you don't understand this now but this is for your own good. I promise to try and not be such a jerk to you anymore. It's just, I don't know how to deal with kids—that was always more your dad's thing than mine. Truth is, I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time, so how about you give your uncle a break, huh?" Sam told him softly, pouring his heart out to the little boy in a vain attempt at making him understand.

"You never had a Sammy before?" Sammy asked, confusion etched on his face but seemingly content with Sam's explanation. "but I thought _you_ was a Sammy?"

"I _am_ a Sammy," Sam chuckled, "But, I don't remember being your age. And I haven't had experience with anyone your age for a long time," he confessed, and Sammy raised an eyebrow at him, in a way so similar to Dean that Sam both did a double take.

"You must have a shit memory." Sammy decided eventually.

"Sammy, you shouldn't say that," Sam said mildly, fighting back a smile at the serious expression on the little boy's face. "Your mom would tear both of us a new one if she finds out I let you use that sort of language."

"It's alright—Daddy says it all the time." Sammy promised, a mischievous smile suddenly emerging on his features that had Sam rolling his eyes heavenward and begging for some strength. "Don' worry, Uncle Sam, I not tell Momma," he assured Sam with an emphatic nod.

"Nice try, dude, but no deal. It's not a nice word and from now on, you're not allowed to use it," Sam said firmly, and Sammy let out a huff.

"Momma always says that—you suck out loud" he pouted, obviously parroting a much-loved phrase of his father's, something that Dean would no doubt get a kick out of if he knew.

"Yes, well, moms know best," Sam told him. _Nevermind that I wouldn__'__t know. _Shaking away the unhappy thought, he smiled, ruffling the three-year-old's unruly hair as Sammy finally relented.

"Fine. Dog."

"What did you call me?!" Sam asked as his eyebrows shot into his hair line.

"Just dog." Sammy said, relishing in the look he was getting from Sam.

"What?" Sam asked again, fighting to keep the smile off of his face when Sammy started to giggle.

"Dog's my book, silly. Just Dog!" Sammy got out between giggles.

"Um…." Sam walked over to the bookshelf and flicked through the few books they'd scrounged up before bringing Sammy here. "I'm sorry, Sammy—I'm afraid we don't have that one, kiddo," he said regretfully, waiting for another tantrum from the volatile three-year-old.

"You sure you don't gots it?" Sammy pouted again, before chewing on his lip as he thought.

"I'm sure," Sam nodded and Sammy stood up tring to stifle a yawn.

"Well, could you go gets it, its not far….its only in the store. I'll be good! I wont even sing daddy's songs." Sammy promised, "And I'll stay in bed." he tried to sweeten the deal, rushing over to his bed and climbing up onto it.

"Sorry kiddo, no can do." Sammy smiled apologetically and Sammy rolled his eyes.

"What books do ya got, then?" he asked pulling back the covers properly.

"Um… _The Lion King_, _Cinderella_, _Sleeping Beauty_, _The Jungle_—"

"Thems for _girls_," Sammy told him, his voice dripping with all the disdain a small boy could muster. "Don't wanna read girl books." Sammy raised his eyebrows at Sam and shook his head before snuggling under the covers. "Do you knows the story of the two little boys who fought the bad guys?" Sammy asked as he sat up in bed. "Daddy tells me that all the time."

"The one where there's a little boy and a bigger boy? And they're brothers, and their father is an FBI secret agent?" Sam asked on a smile, walking back over the bed and sitting down.

_Know it? How can I forget it, Dean's own little way of making sure I knew how to kill different bad guys._

"Yeah, Uncle Sam, you got it!" Sammy said excitedly, jumping out from under the covers, "Tell me it!" he beamed up at Sam, who nodded.

"Your Daddy used to tell me that one when I was your age—did you know that?" Sammy shook his head, his face full of wonder as Sam shifted, bringing his legs up onto the bed so he could recline next to his nephew. "What was the last one he told you?" Sam sat with his back against the wall and his eyes widened when little Sammy curled up against him.

"Um… the one with the werewolf. You sure you member, Uncle Sam? Cause you don't member bein' little, and you gots a shit memory," Sammy asked, leaning back to look up at Sam with a worried gaze.

Sam knew he should have scolded the little boy for cursing but the warm weight pressing against his thigh made him decide otherwise.

"Yeah, Sammy, I remember. It was a dark, cold November night…"

* * *

"Is the kid asleep?" Ruby asked from her stance at the window, not deigning to turn around as she peered out into the night.

"Yeah. You know, for a big, bad demon, it's pretty damn sad that you were brought down by a mere three-year-old," Sam told her playfully, walking up behind her and pulling her to him with a grin.

"Yeah, well, you weren't shut up in the house with him all day. No, instead, you fucking left me here to deal with the fall-out of your shit-decision to bring a scared, pissed off kid here. Asshole. And where the hell were you all day, anyway?" Ruby asked, curiosity apparently getting the better of her as she leaned into his embrace.

"I just went for a walk." Sam said honestly, walking them backwards to the sofa, never letting go of her as he dropped onto it and settle with his back against the arm rest.

"You were gone for like seven hours, Sam. You just walked for seven hours?" Ruby turned to face him, and Sam shrugged and nodded.

"Pretty much. Stopped for a bit to try and wrap my head around things." He shrugged again as Ruby let out a small breath, dropping her head back against his chest when he reclined them further.

"Did it work?" she asked almost absently as her fingers moved in slow, soft circles on his chest.

"Not really. I dunno. Maybe," he whispered, not really knowing how to answer, but not really sure he even wanted to. Not right now anyway. He locked his gaze onto the ceiling, Sam whispered, eyes stuck on the ceiling as he felt the familiar pang of guilt he always felt whenever he pushed her away.

Ruby simply smiled up at him before placing a soft kiss on his lips, moving to lye directly on top of him when he deepened the kiss and his fingers tangled in her long blonde locks. "Sam." Ruby whispered when Sam's lips trailed down to her jaw and her neck. "You know, I'm all for corrupting the innocent, but I think Dean would be pissed if his kid walked in on us having hot, dirty sex in the living room," she told him, gasping when he sucked on her pulse point.

Sam offered her a grunt in return as he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, careful not to make noise as he passed Sammy's room even as he kissed Ruby again, kissing her again without stopping as he navigated his way through to the bedroom.

"There's still a three-year-old in the next room, Sam, and the walls are thin," she pointed out, a smirk on her face as she stared up at him with a hint of challenge in her eyes.

"What's your point?" Sam demanded, his breath warm on her face.

"You're right—what the hell," she said carelessly, her hands reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head impatiently. "I can be quiet if you can," she told him, grinning as he dug his fingers into her hair.

"You talk too much," Sam whispered against her lips before claiming them in a passionate kiss. Ruby sighed against his lips as she allowed herself to surrender to him. Like she always did. _Ruby always listens. _Sam thought as he kissed her deeply. _At lease _someone_ does._


	4. Sometimes You Cant Make It On Your Own

**A/N: I know i suck guys, but I'm being snowed under this year with homework and everything so writing is becoming less and less possible, but I am trying i promise you!**

**For this chapter, i think you guys should listen to "Sometimes you can't make it on your own" By U2. :)**

**Thanks muchos to my amzing Beta Camlann for making this awesome! Also, its like one of the longest I've ever written. **

**Leave a review pleeeeaaasssseee.**

**Ty**

**Love you all**

**K**

**xox**

**

* * *

****Sometimes, You Can't Make It On Your Own.**

Dean watched Naomi in the mirror as she waited in the bedroom for him to finish his shower. He could tell she was still thinking about his injuries as she busied herself with the first-aid kit, taking the bandages and the creams out, as well as the large Band-Aids, the scissors, and the steri-strips—basically anything that she might possibly need to fix him up, which, Dean admitted to himself, probably meant most of it. With a sigh, Dean toweled off gingerly, watching with a sinking heart as his wife rubbed her temples and sank slowly onto the bed.

_I'm not sure how much more of this she can take. I've totally screwed things up. _He shook his head regretfully, wishing he could stay in the bathroom and not have to face her but resigned to the fact that putting it off wasn't going to change a damn thing.

"You think you're gonna need _all_ of that?" Dean's voice resounded as he opened the bathroom door fully and stepped stiffly into the room, towel slung low around his hips.

"You never know," Naomi shrugged, looking up and barely concealing a gasp when she saw his injuries in true light, her face paling as she quickly averted her eyes from his injuries, looking anywhere else but at him.

_I hate this part the most. Damn it, if I'd only listened to Bobby and done what the fuck I'd been told, I wouldn't have to deal with the look she's giving me now. This isn't her fault. It's mine. Just like everything else is. Fuck this. Pull yourself the hell together, suck it up, and put on a fucking happy face—you gotta fix this, Dean. _

"They're honestly not as bad as they look," Dean lied, and Naomi raised an eyebrow, walking over to him to trace the lacerations across his abdomen, the angry purple bruises that now adorned his tanned flesh. Dean winced as her fingers lightly ghosted over the marks.

_How the fuck did I not know she was going to do that?_

"I thought you would have learned by now that lying to me about injuries doesn't work," Naomi whispered sincerely as she looked up into Dean's pain-filled green eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"Yeah, well, it was worth a try." Dean shrugged, instantly regretting the movement when pain shot through his shoulder.

"No, it wasn't, but God does love a try-er." Naomi smiled and Dean huffed out a half angry breath.

_God? What God?_

"God, my ass," he grumbled as Naomi led him over to the bed and sat him down gently.

"Random unpredictable evil." Naomi quoted Dean's often used line when the topic of this came up as she reached for the antiseptic cream and the gauze for the first laceration across his chest.

_Distraction. Nice one, sweetheart, but I can see right through you. On the other hand… this hurts enough that I'll let you get away with it. Okay, I'll bite._

"Yeah." Dean smirked to take his mind off of the burning pain that was shooting through his chest as Naomi dabbed antiseptic over his chest.

"So there're werewolves, demons, vampires, spirits, shape-shifters, Raw Heads, poltergeists, phantom travelers, vengeful spirits..." Naomi trailed off, a blush spreading across her cheek.

"How often have you actually read the journals?" Dean said on a grin. _Damn babe, there just might be hope for you yet._

"Friday nights, eleven o'clock, a bottle of beer. Lola's generally out and Sammy's in bed." Naomi stopped smoothing the white bandage over Dean's gash and took a deep breath, as Dean's hands came up to cup her hips.

"I love you," Naomi sobbed as her resolve broke, and she allowed Dean to pull her close.

"I love you, too," he whispered against her hair as he held her against his wounded chest.

_I'm sorry._

_

* * *

_

Bobby sat on the sofa facing Missouri, who was sipping out of the china cup that Naomi had fished down for her while Dean was in the shower.

"Robert, stop staring at me like that. I don't like it," Missouri half snapped. "Go make that damned call instead of sitting there dwelling on it," she instructed, and Bobby's eyes shot up to hers before he shook his head.

"Right," he said decisively and stood up, walking over to the door, only to stop just before he reached it.

"The phone won't come to you."

"I know."

"Then move your ass!" Missouri commanded as the door opened and Lola walked in, looking nervously at both parties before walking straight into the room. Bobby glared at Missouri before continuing out of the room and into the hallway to use the phone.

"Uh….ok, weird….Anyway, do you want anything to eat? No one really feels like it, but I was gonna make something anyway, we have to keep our strength up." Lola smiled nervously at Missouri who returned the smile.

"I think that's a lovely idea. I'll come and help," Missouri offered, and Lola nodded, a relived smile on her face.

"Good, right, well then, let's…let's…um…" She trailed off as she stood, and Missouri got up and walked over to her.

"How about you tell me where things are, and I'll make the dinner while you go and have a nice lie down?" Missouri urged, and Lola went to protest before the door opened again.

"Well, you look like shit." Naomi announced as she caught sight of the tired bags under her friend's eyes.

"Thanks, N, you're so kind," Lola replied sarcastically, a comment to which Naomi fired back in kind.

"You're more than welcome. Now go and sleep—I'll take care of food." Naomi's lips turned in a quick smile as she gently patted her friend's arm. "Shush." Naomi held up her hand when the other girl made to protest. "Go and sleep. We'll be alright down here." Naomi winked at Lola before stepping out of her way to let her past, linking her fingers with Dean's when he appeared at the door.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Lola sighed and walked out of the room, gently patting Dean on the arm as she took the stairs wearily.

"She's dead on her feet," Dean observed as Naomi led them into the living room.

"Yeah, well I kinda assumed she would be fine while I fell apart, I didn't realize just how much this affected her, but crying will get us nowhere. I want to find our son." Naomi gave Dean's hand a gentle squeeze as she led him to sit down on the sofa under Missouri's smile.

"Show me where everything is," Missouri smiled and Naomi rolled her eyes, walking out of the room as the shorter woman followed, patting Dean on the shoulder as she went. "You have to talk to her, Dean," Missouri whispered, and Dean nodded.

"You don't have to help, you know—you're the guest. You should be sitting with your feet up while I do all the work," Naomi joked halfheartedly when she knew for sure Missouri was behind her again.

"Yes, well, these aren't ordinary circumstances," Missouri smiled sadly. "So first, what are we making?"

"Um…we have chicken…and rice…potatoes…salad, tons of veggies…which is stupid cause I'm the only one that eats the veggies. Sammy and Lola would rather have junk food than healthy stuff and Dean eats just about anything _except_ veggies. He doesn't like them. He hides them in his napkin or shoves them onto my or Sammy's plates when we're not looking. Honestly, it's like having another kid." Naomi concluded, turning to Missouri from the work top she was leaning against.

"Do you have any herbs or spices? Maybe something to make soup with? Or Mexican?" Missouri asked, and Naomi nodded.

"We have noodles and some herbs and stock in the cabinet." Naomi shrugged, walking over to the cupboard next to the fridge and reaching up to get the ingredients down.

"Well then, direct me to the pots and cutlery, and go and sit yourself down," Missouri commanded, and Naomi's eyebrows shot up. "No, I insist. Your man really needs you right now," the older woman advised, and Naomi let out a weary sigh.

"Any ideas when he's going to start opening up to me about these hunts or just trusting me every once in a while with things like that?" Naomi chewed her lip, and Missouri looked to the floor before closing the distance between herself and the younger woman.

"Naomi, he's holding back because it hurts to even _think_ about it, much less talk about it. He feels he's protecting himself _and you_ from it if he doesn't mention it around you. Home time isn't hunt time for Dean. When he comes home to you and Sammy, everything can just melt away—no pain, no fear, no worry, just happiness and fun. You just have to give him some time to be able to deal with it, and then he'll talk to you, I promise." Missouri clasped Naomi's hands tightly, the only form of reassurance she could give. "That man has impeccable timing." Missouri said on a sigh, "He wants to share some information so we need to go into the living room again—Robert hates saying things twice." Missouri let out a small chuckle and Naomi shook her head before letting the older woman lead the way into the living room once again.

Naomi pushed open the door and Bobby's eyebrows shot up under his cap.

"I was just about to call you two in here—I hate saying things twice," Bobby said, the hint of shock in his voice.

"I know, now hurry up, Robert, I gotta get into that kitchen and make you all something to eat." Missouri's glare was enough to convince Bobby to make it as quick as possible as Naomi edged past and sat on the sofa next to Dean, her arm linking through his as she took his hand in both of hers and placed a kiss to his shoulder, biting back her gasp of surprise when Dean leaned into her touch.

"Right," Bobby cleared his throat, and Missouri rolled her eyes, her fingers tapping out a rhythm on her arm. "Well, I called a friend of mine—he's one of the best trackers in the field and it runs in the family so to speak, so he's going to send over his daughter to help us out." Bobby swallowed, and Missouri nodded curtly before walking out of the room, muttering to herself.

"Daughter?" Dean asked, his tired body slowly starting to give into the pull of sleep as Naomi moved one of her hands behind him and scooted back so her back was against the arm of the sofa, allowing him space to move if he wanted to lean back into her. Dean's body tensed, and Naomi instantly knew that he wasn't going to lie down with her, not with the older man in the room.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded, "She's really good at what she does, Dean. I wouldn't have called her unless I was sure." Bobby reassured, obviously knowing exactly what the younger man needed to hear.

"Robert Singer. Get your ass in here!" Missouri called and Bobby started at the sound of her voice.

"That woman--"

"No back chat, just get your lazy ass in here. Now!" Missouri yelled again and Naomi kinked a brow.

"You should probably go before she mauls you to death," Naomi said on a sweet smile, as Dean stifled a laugh.

"I'm waiting, Robert," came the older woman's impatient reply, and Bobby swallowed hard and moved quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Don't you think they would make a really cute couple?" Naomi remarked, letting out a soft sigh when Dean slowly leaned down, his back against the side of the sofa, bringing his knees up slightly as she put hers over his, laying on her back. She swallowed hard when he placed his head on her shoulder and threw his arm over her waist, his left hand splayed on her stomach.

"Yeah, she would have him so whipped." Dean smirked, and Naomi laughed against his temple. "Like you have me wrapped around your little finger," he whispered and Naomi placed a kiss onto his temple.

"Damn straight," Naomi bit her lip and let out a breath when she caught Dean's silver band on his wedding finger, his gold one having been lost on a hunt years ago. _We really should get that replaced. God, how many times have I thought that? Something else always gets in the way._ "For the record, I have you _well trained_, not whipped."

Dean let out a weary sigh and let his eyes flutter closed, the emotion, alcohol and lack of sleep over the past few days beginning to catch up with him. Naomi placed a gentle kiss to his head again and wriggled her arm under him so she could hold him close. It was rare for Dean to let his guard down. He didn't relax around just anyone, only the people he was closest to, and ever since Sam had disappeared, it was even rarer. Now, he would seldom drop his guard unless he was in severe pain, so out of it that he didn't realize what he was doing. Naomi let a slight smile graze her face as Dean's body went slightly lax and his breathing evened out against her neck as he snuggled down into her.

_We're gonna find our son and be a family again._

She yawned and pulled the cushion that was making her uncomfortable from behind her head, placing a soothing kiss to Dean's lips before letting sleep claim her too.

* * *

"_Yeah, thanks, Bobby, just hurry up alright? I wanna get home." Dean's eyes fell to the picture in his hands of his son and wife._

"_Yeah, I wanna be home, too," Bobby's voice came down the line and Dean smiled. _

"_You're still coming over for dinner, I take it?" Dean asked, his thumb gently stroking over the two faces in the photograph._

"_Yeah, I might just drive back with you when we get this hunt wrapped up." _

"_Alright, then, hurry your ass over here." Dean clicked the cell shut and glanced around the motel room, drinking in the details until his eyes were drawn back to the picture in his hands. The two smiling faces stared back at him, and the deep ache of loneliness filled him again. Forgetting them wasn't possible, but putting them out of his mind for a few hours sometimes was, long enough for him to hunt and come home to them and forget the pain and the trauma of whatever hunt he was on. _

_Dean stood and walked over to the duffle in the middle of the room, placing the photograph on the table as he pulled out the Colt and his pearl-handled 9mm, setting them on the table next to the photograph before reaching for the silver dagger with his and Naomi's initials intertwined. She had given it to him for his birthday. It was perfect. A perfect size, a perfect weight, with an edge that was as perfectly sharp as the point. It fit perfectly in his hand, the cool metal of the handle burning into his warm flesh. Dean traced the three letters with his thumb, the engraving the same as the tattoo Naomi had on her wrist. _

_Dean sighed and placed the knife down, reaching for the shotgun and buckshot, making sure he had enough and everything was ready for Bobby's arrival. It was a simple hunt, just a routine possession, but Bobby had asked him to wait for his arrival. Ever since Sam had…done what he did, things had gotten freaky. Whenever Dean went looking for Sam, it was like the younger man didn't want to be found, like he had the other demons out running interference. And to Dean, it sure as hell seemed like all the other demons were out for blood. His. Filling the shotgun with the rounds, he set that on the table and picked up the knife and photo again, taking them both back over to the bed and placing the photo on the nightstand and the knife under his pillow. _It shouldn't take Bobby more than a few hours to get here, then I can go home. _Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed softly, the need to get home making him more impatient as time went on._

_

* * *

_"_Come on, Bobby." Dean whispered under his breath. Six hours had passed and it was almost nightfall, the eerie sunset creeping in through the blinds. _Okay, _Dean thought. _He has two more hours, then I'm going it alone.

_Dean pulled out of the parking lot at the motel three hours later, leaving Bobby a message to let him know where he would be. He checked the weapons he had with him, intent on going in to draw the devil's trap in preparation for Bobby's arrival. Failing that, he would have to break out the Latin, something which he wasn't too keen on. _

_Dean chucked the can of spray paint into the duffle with the extra salt and shotgun, tossing in his father's journal with the Latin ritual just in case. Opening the door of Naomi's Mustang, he smiled faintly. The car was just like her—it smelled like her, it responded to his touch the same way she did, and even the soft leather seats reminded him of her owner. Everything about the car was Naomi, and Dean found himself slipping into the thoughts of her and his son back at home._

Shit, come on Dean—now's not the time.

_Dean got out of the car quickly, slamming the door closed and wincing when the sounds reverberated through the empty space, nothing but darkness surrounding him. And that huge warehouse. Dean walked towards the cold, grey building, the damp, cool night air sticking to him as he leaned against the wall and threw the duffle onto his shoulder, the shotgun held at prime firing height. Pushing off of the wall, Dean made his way around the corner of the building, peering in the window of the building only to let out a heavy breath at the emptiness that was there, too._

Is everything as empty as this around here? Alright, something's not right. This is weird…almost too quiet…maybe I have this wrong….

_Dean lost his train of thought as something slammed into him, his head reeling as he fell to the ground, shotgun still clutched in his hands. Just before he lost consciousness, he could make out the form of his attacker, standing over him with an evil smile and eyes as black as the night surrounding them._

_

* * *

_

_Dean groaned when he woke up and tried to move, only to find himself suspended by his hands, wrists bounds over his head and his feet barely touching the floor as his head throbbed painfully. He looked around the warehouse, the cold air sending a chill through his aching body._

"_Ah, you finally decided to join us again?" a deep voice cooed, and Dean raised his eyes to meet the gaze of a tall, indiscriminate man standing in the shadows. _

"_Go to hell," he coughed out , wincing at the cackle that came from the other man's throat, the cold, hollow sounds reverberating in the empty space. _

"_Been there, done that, got the memories to prove it." He shrugged and walked over to Dean, his harsh glare penetrating Dean's green orbs. _

"_Shut up." _

"_Oh, you think that smart mouth of yours is going to save your precious little boy form all of this? You think that you can save him?" The demon laughed again, and Dean glared hard at him, trying to free himself from his restraints. "You see, Dean, _nothing_ can save him from this—you failed with one Sammy—another one isn't going to make any difference."_

"_I said shut up!" Dean grit out, hot anger dripping from his words._

"_Now, now Dean, no need to get all angry over this. We're family, after all."_

"_What?" Dean glared again, his green eyes never leaving the black ones before him._

"_Well, I mean, seeing as your precious Sammy has come over to the dark side, it rather makes us related in a roundabout sort of way, don't you think?" The demon grinned and picked up the knife that was on the floor, the silver knife with an engraving on the handle, and ripped through Dean's shirt and flesh, practically laughing at the blood that poured from the wound. It was only then that Dean realized that this wasn't the first wound he'd received at the demon's hands and the reason he was so cold was the lack of material covering his torso. Looking down, he realized that there were many more cuts, the same as the one that had just been inflicted on him. _

Son of a bitch.

_Dean clenched his jaw against the pain, a muffled groan escaping his dry lips, thoughts of Sam and Sammy and Naomi all flying through his head, thoughts of how he had failed them all at least once, how maybe this would be - could be- the last time he ever failed them again. The hunter had become the hunted, and right now, he had fallen prey to one of the most deadly of all supernatural creatures: a demon. A demon that knew enough about too much to make things hard for him. A demon that knew enough to finish him off without even reaching for any weapon in torture. _

"_Why me?" the demon was saying, "That's your first thought when you get up in the morning, isn't it? Have you ever thought about how that long-suffering wife of yours has felt? Have you ever stopped to wonder just how much you've ruined for her, how much she's had to sacrifice to be with you? Or how about what she's given up? And you, what have you ever done for her? I mean, you've broken her heart a thousand times over, hurt her in ways that us down there applaud you for. But yet she keeps coming back. She stands up for you, only for you to make her look stupid, and the pretty little fool lets you." _

_The demon's words hurt far more than the knife cutting into his skin did, slicing much deeper than any mere physical attack. _

No, it wasn't like that! I never meant to hurt her, it was the last thing I wanted! Just give me one more chance to say I'm sorry, that I didn't mean it, that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, that she's the only reason I have to keep going. Please just one more chance.

"_And that son of yours, he's something special. We have this bet going to see how long it takes before someone else goes after him, aside from the two…well, one, that is right now. I wonder how your little wife will cope in that situation, seeing as you're too pigheaded to take a hint."_

Come on, just hold on, Bobby'll come.

_Dean gasped in pain as the demon hit him, a wave of pain starting from his ribs and crashing over the rest of his body. Blow after blow came until Dean was sure that he felt something in his shoulder give way—not break, but just bend in an unnatural way before he felt the trickle of blood sliding down his back._

_A shot rang out and Dean felt his eyes fly open, completely unaware when he had closed them. The demon that had been in front of him was now facing another man. Dean's head swam as another noise began to filter through his muddled brain, managing to penetrate through his thoughts until it registered that what he was hearing was Latin. _

Bobby. 'Bout damn time.

_And as a blood chilling cry rang through the building, Dean knew that he was safe. Bobby rushed over to the younger man and Dean smiled at him, grateful when Bobby lowered him from the restraints, eyes flying wide in shock when Bobby's eyes turned black._

"No!" Dean yelled, sitting up on the sofa, Naomi sitting up seconds later, a confused and worried look on her face.

"Dean?" She asked as Dean tried to get his breathing under control and fight the nausea that came as a result of his sitting up so fast. "Hey," Naomi cupped Dean's face, her thumb brushing over his lips, "Baby, listen to me, it was just a dream, everything's alright." Naomi soothed and sighed softly at the look on Dean's face, the shock and pain etched on his beautiful features. Naomi kissed him softly on the head and wriggled out from under him to get a better grip on him. Naomi held him to her, whispering reassuring words in his ear as her fingers ran through his closely cropped hair. Dean began to pull away, and Naomi shifted, trying to come around behind him, her small hands settling on his shoulders, gently working the tense muscles beneath his shirt, trying hard to make sure she avoided his injuries.

"Come on Dean, quit squirming, you need this," Naomi whispered into his ear as he moved slightly forward to allow her to get behind him. Naomi jumped when Dean moved his leg, foot colliding with the forgotten bottle of Jack from earlier. Naomi stopped her hand movements when she didn't get the usual response from Dean, he wasn't willing to relax, which was of course perfectly acceptable.

Naomi moved back around when Dean let out a heavy sigh, opting instead to curl up against his wounded side when he nestled back against the sofa, her leg hit off of the bottle knocking it over again.

"Shit." Naomi murmured moving to pick up the bottle.

"Leave it—it's empty," Dean mumbled, and Naomi swallowed hard, silently wondering if this was really the right time to bring up his growing dependence on alcohol, something Naomi had noticed slowly increasing after Sam had disappeared.

"You know, when I was little, my aunt Beatrice used to drink in secret. She was good at keeping it a secret, too. She could never say no to a drink," Naomi whispered softly, her hand beginning to move in slow soothing circles across his wounded chest.

"That's what I don't understand," Dean said lightly, and Naomi smiled against his chest.

"What don't you understand?" she asked as her hand drifted to his shoulder.

"Your background. Your family had more money than God, but it still wasn't as easy as it looked." Dean's hand drifted down to her hip as he thumbed the bone gently.

"Yeah well, having money can make things a lot more complicated. Beatrice used to drink because she could. She never needed more reason than that. What _I_ don't get is why _you_ do it." Naomi bit her lip when the words came out, knowing that in Dean's fragile state, bringing up something like that could be make him shut down pretty damn fast. "You know what? It doesn't matter," Naomi stated quickly, the words pouring from her mouth as Dean's heart rate sped up beneath her palm.

_Come on Dean, it's now or never. You have to tell her. You promised that, you begged for one last chance, and you got it, so tell her._

"Um," Dean started hesitantly, clearing his throat as he tightened his grip on her hip. "I drink to numb the pain," he told her, his voice stilted as he struggled to force the words out. Naomi resumed rubbing soothing circles on his chest, silently encouraging him to continue. "I drink, and for a little while, I don't feel it anymore. It gives me a chance to get my emotions in check, you know. I just…it's…I…" Dean trailed off and looked back out the window.

"It's okay, baby—take your time," Naomi whispered against his neck, her breath ghosting along his pulse point.

"It's just easier than this. Talking is…it's hard. It's just a hell of a lot easier to take a drink then to sit down and talk about how the fuck I feel." Dean couldn't help reaching up and placing his hand on top of hers on his chest.

"I know. I've always admired that ability you have to seemingly let things go—it drives me crazy, don't get me wrong, but I admire you for it. I admire the fact that you'd rather keep it to yourself instead of worry anyone else, but it has to stop. You're killing yourself with the pressure. I'm not asking you to tell me everything, but I'm a big girl—I can take the truth. Especially this thing with Sam… before he left, you never turned to the bottom of a bottle to deal with things. Not like you do now." Naomi tilted her head as to place a kiss on his jaw line and snuggle into him more than she already was.

"How long have you known?" Dean whispered, and Naomi felt him swallow hard.

"Long enough. Dean, I hate that you felt you had to hide it from me, to hide how much you were hurting. I know how much you've been drinking, and it scares me, Dean. I worry that I'm gonna lose you to the bottle It's easier and safer to talk about it." Naomi felt the sting of tears in her eyes and tucked her head further under his jaw, looking for the safety he could provide.

"It's not _that_ easy, you know. I love how you open up to me, but I can't be like that—I never could. It's just not who I am. It's not who I was raised to be." Dean felt the hot sting of tears press against his eyelids and cleared his throat, shutting his eyes firmly against them.

_No, not now. Come on, be a man._

"I love you," Naomi whispered against his lips, and Dean lifted his head, confusion etched on his face, as her face hovered inches from his. Dean couldn't stop the tears from slowly leaking down his face, one by one, and Naomi smiled sadly, her small hands coming up to cup his face as she placed a soft kiss against his lips and gently wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "You're not the only one who gets to do this, you know," Naomi whispered on a smile, and Dean smiled back.

"I love you, too," he managed to force out, and Naomi grinned.

"I know." She shrugged and moved to sit on Dean's lap, holding him to her. "It's not so bad, this talking stuff, is it?" she asked as she rested her head atop of his as he settled his on her chest.

"Not if I get rewarded like this for it," he chuckled, and Naomi smacked at his arm.

"Asshat," she growled playfully, and Dean leaned back, a new need for reassurance in his eyes. "But you're _my_ asshat," she continued, "and you always will be, so you're gonna have to get used to it." Naomi placed another kiss on his lips, and Dean nodded.

"I think I can handle that, but in the meantime, I...um….need food," he stated, and Naomi rolled her eyes.

"Well we've been out for about six hours," Naomi stated looking at the clock. "There should be food in the fridge for us." Naomi got to her feet again and stretched, reaching out for Dean and taking his hands to pull him onto his feet.

"Take me to the food," Dean whispered in her ear, and Naomi giggled, about to turn when Dean abruptly pulled her to a stop. "On the last hunt," he said suddenly, and Naomi turned to look up at him cautiously as he continued, "I thought I was gonna die. I pleaded for one last chance to make things right, and I guess I got it. I'm not gonna mess up again, Mimi," he told her solemnly. "I'm gonna get our son back. I promise," he said, and Naomi smiled softly up at him.

"I know you will, Dean. We're gonna be a family again."

* * *

Bobby let the curtain go, and Missouri rolled her eyes at him.

"A watched pot never boils." she stated and Bobby raised his eyebrows at her. "She's not going to appear any faster if you keep watching for her." Missouri got up from the kitchen table and walked down the hall to where the older man was.

"I know, but I want this kid back soon," Bobby confessed, and Missouri nodded.

"I know. We all want him back safe and sound, Robert, but do you think calling her will get him back any faster?" Missouri patted him on the shoulder as she turned to the steps. "I know if you haven't made the right choice, you're going to be around to pick up the pieces. That's what makes you a true gentleman, Robert Singer." Missouri smiled and turned on her heel, walking up the stairs.

"I hope so," Bobby muttered to himself, his head turning at the slight creak of the living room door as it opened and Naomi walked out, hand in hand with Dean. "You two sleep well?" he asked, and Naomi smiled at him.

"Wasn't the best, but it'll do. Is there any food left?" Naomi asked, and Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, there's some whatever-it-was in the fridge," he said on a light chuckle, and Naomi rolled her eyes at him.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said and moved to step past Naomi only to have her stop him and give him a light tug on the wrist.

"Talk to him," she mouthed at Dean, and Dean nodded, letting her go and allowing her to make her way into the kitchen to get them some food.

"So, uh…how are you?" Dean asked clumsily, and Bobby blinked back at him only to burst out laughing a moment later.

"The drink's worn off, I take it?" Bobby laughed, and Dean raised a smile.

"Yeah. So, look, anyways, why are you hovering?" Dean stated bluntly, and Bobby sighed.

"Waiting for Peyton."

"She won't appear any faster if you watch for her"

"You and Missouri taking a page out the same book?" Bobby grumbled, and Dean shrugged.

"Why don't you get some sleep and we'll wait for her? Where is Missouri, anyway?" Dean asked, even as he found his eyes following the older man's out of the window to the empty driveway. "Bobby, where the hell is my car?"

"Well, let's answer your questions in order, shall we?" The older man chuckled slightly, and Dean narrowed his eyes. "I'm not tired. Missouri is upstairs. And your car is in the garage where it's always been_. Naomi__'__s _car is in the garage with it now. I got a bit bored." Bobby let the curtain go and turned to look at Dean.

"Bored my ass, Robert Singer. You just couldn't handle me nagging you all the time." Missouri stood on the stairs with her arms folded across her chest and an 'I'm-not-amused' look on her face. Dean stifled a laugh and turned to the kitchen when a loud smash rang through the house. The three of them raced into the kitchen to find Naomi holding her hand under the tap, a mixture of water and blood running into the sink.

"What happened?" Dean asked as he walked over to her, his hand resting on the small of her back as he peered into the sink.

"I was putting the casserole onto the plate and it slipped out of my hand. I'm sorry." Naomi looked out of the window, and Dean placed a kiss on her temple.

"Hey, you know what? It's alright—I didn't like that china anyway, and we can always fix more food. But we can't get you a new hand so easily. Let me see," Dean whispered and gently removed her hand from under the water. "This looks ugly, Mimi. Just because I'm all cut up, doesn't mean you have to be," Dean teased playfully, and Naomi giggled before biting her lip.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, and Dean kissed her on the head again.

"It's alright, Mimi. We're gonna get you fixed up, and it'll be fine."

"Naomi," Missouri cut in, and Naomi looked around Dean to see the older woman staring back at her with a kind look. "It's alright. Dean, go and get the first aid kit from your bedroom, and I'll fix her up." Missouri smiled softly at them both, and Dean nodded, stepping away from Naomi slowly and walking out of the room.

"I gotta get control of my emotions here. I'm all over the place." Naomi cleared her throat and looked at Missouri who smiled.

"Baby, your son's missing—you're going through a rough time right now. Anyone in your situation is bound to be feeling a little emotional," Missouri stated and Naomi sighed.

"She's right, you know." Bobby agreed.

"Of course I'm right." Missouri turned to Bobby, as Naomi wiped away the fallen tear. "Shouldn't you be waiting at a window somewhere, Robert?"

"But you said--"

"Bobby, I think I hear someone pulling into the driveway," Dean said as he walked into the kitchen carrying the first-aid kit, and Bobby stared at Missouri in disbelief.

"Go on now," she ordered, turning her back on him as she faced Naomi and smiled sweetly. "Come on baby, let's get you all fixed up."

Bobby sighed and walked out of the room and down to the door, clearing his throat and then opening it, smiling at the blonde on the other side.

"Peyton!" he greeted, pulling the young woman into a hug.

"Hey, Bobby," she replied warmly as she smiled back. "Sorry I took so long—I had some car trouble on the way down."

"No problem. Everyone's in the kitchen—come on in." Bobby ushered the girl into the kitchen where Naomi and Missouri were sitting at the kitchen table as Missouri bandaged Naomi's hand and Dean made some tea and coffee, only slightly grumbling.

"Your coffee's being made," Missouri announced, and Peyton smiled.

"I know."

"Ah, you're psychic too, I see." Missouri smiled sweetly as she turned to face the young blond.

"She's psychic too?" Naomi asked as Missouri turned back around to finish patching up her hand.

"Yeah, I am. You're Naomi, right?" Peyton smiled softly. "I'm sorry we met like this, but I _will_ help you get your son back."

"Thanks." Naomi smiled softly at her smiling up at Dean when he placed the hot mug of coffee down at her side. "This is my husband, Dean." Naomi looked back at Peyton who smirked and cocked her head to the side.

"Hi," she grinned, a flirtatious look in her eyes, and Naomi looked at her incredulously.

"Hi, thanks for coming out here." Dean smiled politely before walking back over to the stove. "This looks good. Mimi, do you want some?" Dean asked her as he pulled out a plate for himself.

"What?" Naomi asked him, her mind obviously preoccupied.

"I said do you want some food?" Dean tilted his head to the side and Naomi looked at the mess still on the floor.

"Um, no thanks. I'll get something later." She stood up and walked over to the pantry to get the cleaning supplies.

"I think you want to find Sammy as fast as possible, so if someone could point me to his room, I can get started. You didn't interfere with the energy readings when you were in there, I hope," Peyton inquired, her tone causing Missouri to bristle at the subtle implication.

"Girl, I'm not some amateur that doesn't know how to pick up on energy vibrations—I've been doing this longer than you've been alive. I can sense well enough what's at play in that room. There's a bad energy in there, not black—it's lighter than that, but still dark," she stated, and Peyton smiled.

"No offense, Missouri, but I would rather see for myself, if you don't mind."

"Um, Bobby, you can show her where Sammy's room is, right?" Naomi interrupted, trying to put a stop to the growing hostility in the room even as she turned a pleading look on Bobby. The older hunter nodded, leading the way with an awkward smile as he headed up the stairs with Peyton on his heels.

"Who's she?" Lola asked sleepily as she walked into the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants and a black tank top.

"That's Peyton." Dean stated as he settled at the table to eat, seemingly oblivious to the tension that had filled the room.

"Peyton?" Lola asked as she kinked a brow, picking up the cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter.

"Yeah, she's a friend of Bobby's. She's come to help us find Sammy. You're drinking her coffee." Naomi stated as Dean looked up from his food, and Lola shrugged, putting the cup to her mouth again and taking a long drink. Naomi grinned as she sank down to clean up the glass on the floor.

"Baby, leave it," Dean said as he got up and crouched down beside her, picking up the little bits of glass as Naomi got to her feet again, bandaged right hand clutching the counter as she did so.

"You okay?" Lola asked, and Naomi nodded, steadying herself before she walked back over to the sink where she had left the mop. Dean flashed a concerned glance to Naomi before sending a questioning glance to Lola.

"She's fine." Lola smiled and Dean frowned, unconvinced.

Missouri stood up and walked over to where the food was and silently took two more dinner plates from the cupboard, serving generous portions of food onto each one before placing one in front of Lola and one in front of an empty chair before walking over to Naomi.

"Let me do that, honey, and you sit down and get some food into you. Not eating isn't good for you, especially not now—you need to keep your strength up," Missouri spoke softly as she took the mop from Naomi and guided her to sit down.

"You have to let me do something around here." Naomi complained as she stood again, walking over to the drawer to get the forks.

"You can, you can look after yourself. Leave the heavy stuff to everyone else. That goes for you, too, Dean Winchester," Missouri warned, and Dean spun around, spearing her with a dark glare.

"I'm gonna be a part of this, Missouri. With all due respect, Sammy is _my_ son—I'm gonna help. I _have_ to help," Dean said adamantly and turned back around to the door when he heard Peyton and Bobby come back downstairs, talking in hushed voices.

"What did you find?" Naomi asked, her fork half way between her mouth and her plate.

"It was just what I thought," Peyton informed them, a hint of smugness in her voice. "You're not going to like this," she continued, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear and running her tongue along her thin lips.

"Yeah because I like the situation as it is," Naomi snapped, and Missouri coughed to hide her laughter.

"Look, _you_ called _me _for help—I could be doing other things right now," Peyton stated, and Naomi glared at her.

"I just want to find my son. Now can you tell us anything or not?" Naomi put her fork down, and Lola turned around.

"There's only one person that could have taken your son—there's only one person who exudes that particular type of energy. Sam Winchester has your son." Peyton replied, looking back at Naomi with a directness that took Naomi aback. She dropped her eyes to her plate as Dean set his fork on the table, his left hand curling around the mug that was on the table. Naomi took a deep breath and watched as Dean's fingers flexed around the ceramic, she was waiting on all of Dean's emotions to come out at once. Ducking her head slightly, Naomi wasn't surprised when the mug flew over her head and crashed onto the wall behind her, pieces of ceramic flying in all directions as Dean got to his feet, walking over to the window and gazing out.

"We knew that already," Naomi said quietly and Lola reached over the table and took her hand, following her friend's gaze to Dean who stood with his head hanging between his shoulders, his hands gripping the counter tightly.

"I --"

"That's enough for right this second." Missouri stated, and Peyton looked at her, a cold glare aimed in her direction.

"Lola will make you some more coffee. They need time to process what you just confirmed," Missouri said determinedly. "Now if you don't mind, we'll go into the den to give them some privacy."

"Forget the coffee. Just come and get me when you're ready to act," Peyton said before showing herself out, Bobby, Lola and Missouri following closely behind.

Naomi waited until she heard the living room door click shut before she got up and closed the kitchen door and walked over to Dean, who flinched at her touch.

"Dean." Naomi's voice was just about a whisper. "This isn't your fault. I don't blame you for this—we'll find Sammy." Naomi placed her hand on top of his and held on tightly, placing a kiss against his shoulder when he didn't move again.

"I'm sorry," Dean choked out, and Naomi closed her eyes against the ocean of tears that filled them.

"Dean, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for—this isn't your fault."

"Who are you trying to kid, Naomi? You said it yourself. You're gonna kill him, and it's my fault, because I let this happen. I didn't take care of this when I should have," Dean whispered as he turned to her, his tear-streaked face filled with pain and doubt.

"Dean." Naomi whispered his name as she reached up to cup his jaw, small fingers wiping away the fallen tears as her own spilled down her cheeks. "I don't care what I said before. I didn't mean any of that—I was just angry and looking for someone to blame. But I know who to blame now, whose fault it _really_ is, and if you're looking for someone to blame for Sammy going missing, I'm as much to blame as you are. It's my job to make sure the windows are locked and salted. I screwed up, and Sammy was taken. Through a window. By a demon." Naomi bit back the sobs as she tried to comfort Dean. The reality of how he was feeling hitting her all at once, as opposed to the little bursts she had gotten since Sammy had been taken almost 24 hours ago.

"That's bullshit. It's _my_ job protect this family." Dean turned away from her and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'm supposed to be there for you, protect you, keep you safe. Keep my son safe. I can't even do that right. Rule number one: watch out for Sammy. Naomi, I failed them both, and now I've let you down, too. What's the point, Mimi? What's the point in me coming back here from hunts when all I do is bring a whole world of pain with me every time I walk through the damn door." Dean turned back to her, desperation etched on his features.

"Dean, stop. The point is, we love you, and we need you. That's all that matters. Peyton will help us track Sam down, and we'll get Sammy back. Dean, please, sweetheart, listen to me—you're not letting anyone down. You have never let me down, or Sammy, or even Sam. You did your best—you always have—and that's more than enough."

Naomi walked over to him and took his two hands in hers, bringing them up to her chest and holding them tightly as she closed the gap between her and Dean. "I love you. So much, Dean. You have no idea how it kills me to hear you ask why you should come back. If anyone's let anyone down here, it's me letting you down. You needed me earlier, and I threw it back in your face because I was too self-absorbed to see it, but it won't happen again. I'm going to be there for you, and I need you to be there for me—can you do that?" she asked through her tears, smiling when Dean swallowed hard before nodding slowly, letting go of her hands to hold her close to him instead.

"I really don't deserve you," he whispered against the top of her head, and Naomi smiled against his broad chest.

"I know you deserve better, Dean, but you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. Unless you decide to run away with that blonde bitch in there," Naomi whispered the last part, and Dean pulled back to look down into her eyes.

"I'm not leaving you- especially not for her. You are _way_ more attractive, and feisty, and amazing than she'll ever be. Besides…that whole psychic thing freaks me out," he said with a hint of his familiar smirk. He leaned down and kissed Naomi, sighing against her lips when her hand cupped his jaw and wiped away the stray tears that still lingered on his cheeks.

"You ready to go back in there and get the rest of the information out of Blondie so we can bring Sammy home?" Naomi asked Dean as she stoked his stubbled jaw.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, his hands slipping from her back to her hips and then to her hand as he sidestepped her and walked over to the door, her hand clutched tightly in his.

Missouri looked up as the door opened, and Peyton turned around, a photograph of Dean, Naomi, Sammy, and Richard in her hands, as Dean and Naomi walked into the room again.

"You guys ready to continue, now?" Peyton asked placing the photo back where it was and turning to face them properly.

"Yeah," Naomi replied with a nod, sitting back down on the sofa again, Dean leaning against the arm of the sofa with her hand still clutched in his.

"I know where Sam is, well, where he was last—he's blocking now, so he can't be traced, but I doubt he'll have moved, not with a small child in tow. It's about an eight-hour drive from here," Peyton told them, leaning back against the wall with a hint of self-importance that rubbed Naomi entirely the wrong way.

"Okay, so what are we waiting for? Let's get our shit together and go bring him home." Naomi stood up, and Lola nodded.

"What do we need, Dean?" Naomi asked turning to face Dean, who looked down.

"Salt, spray paint, holy water. Bobby." Dean looked back up at Naomi who smiled sweetly at him and tightened her grip on his hand. "We should take the Colt, too," he whispered thickly. "Just in case." Naomi nodded, almost feeling his pain through the connection at their hands.

"Missouri, you're more than welcome to stay here if you want to. I would love for Sammy to meet you." Naomi smiled at Missouri who smiled back.

"That won't be necessary—I have some friends in the area who have invited me for Christmas after they found out I was in town, but I'll be sure to come round when you have that little boy back safe and sound." Missouri said softly and Naomi found herself nodding again.

"As long as you stick around," Naomi said, and Missouri nodded.

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else when that little boy comes home."

Dean stood silently, offering a small smile in Missouri's direction and walked out of the room, Naomi in tow as they went off to pack their stuff.

* * *

Naomi placed her toiletries bag next to her weekend bag and pulled the zipper closed, her eyes flicking to Dean as he methodically placed his things in with hers in the weekend bag.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Naomi asked as she walked around to his side of the bed, the side closest to the door, and ran her hand up and down his bicep.

"My brother kidnapped my son. I don't know why, and it's just occurred to me that I may have to kill him to get my son back." Dean's voice cracked with the last few words, and Naomi wrapped her arms around his.

"It won't come to that, Dean," Naomi stated, and Dean looked at her as he pulled the zipper of his duffle closed.

"You don't believe that any more than I do. But thanks for trying," he said, trying his best to smile, even though it was obvious that they were soon going to face an encounter that neither of them was ready for. Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly on the lips before reaching over the bed to grab her bag.

"Dean, your ribs are busted up…maybe you should let me carry that," Naomi offered, reaching out for the black bag.

"Nah, I got it. Get the door, will ya?" Dean asked, standing patiently as Naomi stepped out of his way and over to the door, pulling it open and closing it behind her as she followed him down the steps.

Dean got to the door and paused. "What car are we taking?"

"Umm, Lola and Bobby will have to drive Missouri to wherever her friend's house is and meet us there, I'm not having her get a cab, so they can take mine, and we'll take the Impala. Peyton can drive herself." Naomi smirked as she walked over to the closet and took her leather jacket out, hanging it over the banister as Dean walked out into the garage through the kitchen door, hollering over his shoulder for Naomi to grab the car keys. Naomi walked back to the cabinet at the bottom of the stairs and picked up both sets of car keys. Some of the weapons would need to be switched over into the Impala, as Naomi didn't carry much of an arsenal in the Impala when she was using it.

"Babe, can you get the light for me?" Dean asked as he walked down the steps, blinking at the light when it was switched on. "Thanks." He stated walking around to the trunk, setting the bags on the floor while he waited for her to bring the keys to him.

"No problem, hot stuff." Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, and he lifted his head, his hand instinctively moving toward the gun in his waistband. "Whoa, no need for that." Dean followed the voice to the hood of Naomi's Mustang, his eyes skimming over the toned legs and up the girlish figure—all shallow curves—before finally settling on the face.

"Peyton." He smiled tightly and let go of the gun, cracking his back as he leaned his hip against the Impala. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I just came to see how you were, that's all." Peyton smiled flirtatiously at him, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm very happily married, I'm absolutely fine, and I'm not interested. I do, however, wanna get my son back, so if you're through baiting me and everyone else, I'm ready to get going." Dean smiled back as he heard Naomi coming down the hall. "By the way, I would get my ass off the car if I were you." Dean told her with a smirk, and Peyton slipped fluidly off of the hood and down onto ground, walking quickly to stand beside Dean.

"Well if you ever change your mind, give me a call," Peyton whispered into his ear, biting her lip seductively as she walked away from him, passing a pissed-off looking Naomi who had come to stand in the doorway. Naomi simply shrugged and walked over to him, opening the trunk of her beloved Mustang.

"I've missed you, baby," she whispered, affectionately petting the open trunk before lifting the cover and reaching for the guns. "Have you ever wanted to?" Naomi asked into the silence as Dean took the shotgun from her.

"Have I ever wanted to what?" he asked, tucking the shot gun away in its place.

"You know, be with another woman. I know how hard it must get being away all the time. And I have firsthand experience of—"

"Naomi, I have two hands, but it never comes to that," Dean interrupted, "I get all I need and more when I'm home. I promise you, there's no one else, never has been. Never will be," Dean stopped putting the guns in the trunk and turned to her, placing his hands either side of her hips. "Baby, you're my whole world. I meant it when I said I don't know what I would do without you; being away for a few weeks is bad enough, but just the thought of being without you for the rest of my life scares me more than any fugly ever could." Dean grinned at Naomi's smile and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. "You like putting me in these chick-flick moments, don't you?" he whispered against her lips, and Naomi laughed slightly.

"Yeah, I love it," she sniggered, bringing her hands up to cup his face. "And I love you, too." She kissed him again, and Dean pulled her into a tight hug, returning the kiss with enthusiasm.

"Now you two stop that before you embarrass this old woman," Missouri called out suddenly, her voice echoing through the garage as she covered her eyes, and Naomi laughed as she stepped back from Dean, who groaned before he reluctantly released her.

"Sorry, Missouri," she said as she smoothed her hand down Dean's chest before turning to face the older woman. "Do you need anything?"

"I need to borrow your husband for a bit—I need him to get my stuff downstairs, since Robert's getting what he needs from his car to put into yours," Missouri told her, already motioning for Dean to follow her inside.

"Sure, you can have him. I'll go find Bobby and give him a hand." Naomi grinned and walked over to the garage door, leaning on the button to open it as Dean walked up the steps to Missouri.

* * *

"So," Dean said as he walked into Missouri's room towards her bag on her bed, "When will my son get to meet you?" he picked up her bag, frowning when he turned to see Missouri close the door.

"Dean, I may be speaking out of turn here, but I feel I have to tell you," Missouri spoke quietly and Dean cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Tell me what?"

"There's something not quite right with Peyton. I don't trust her one little bit," Missouri said worriedly, and Dean nodded.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't trust her either, and Naomi may kill her. She was getting a little too friendly with me in the garage, if you know what I mean. And if she can flirt with a married man whose son is missing, I don't see her as someone I'll be turning my back on anytime soon," Dean finished, worried despite himself at the sight of the worried look on Missouri's face.

"Don't let her out of your sight, boy. She's trouble." Missouri turned the door handle again and Dean nodded.

"I won't. Let's get this into the car then." He smiled at her and led the way out, pausing at the stairs to offer his arm and help her down.

***

Naomi walked into the kitchen to make sure the door was locked, the last final checks to be made before she went to bring her boy home.

"Peyton." Naomi almost jumped when she saw the blonde standing in the kitchen, and Peyton grinned.

"I wanted a soda. I hope you don't mind that I helped myself," Peyton said as she held up a can of Diet Coke.

"No, go ahead , take the Coke. Just leave my husband alone," Naomi smiled warningly and Peyton spun back around from the counter.

"Are you threatening me?" Peyton asked menacingly, and Naomi grinned.

"Oh, no, no. I don't make threats," Naomi checked the kitchen door lock before turning back towards the rest of the house. "But then again, I don't make idle promises either." With that, Naomi walked out of the kitchen and out of the house to the car where Lola and Bobby were waiting with Missouri.

"You take care of yourself now, and don't be taking foolish risks, you understand me, boy?" Missouri was saying to Dean as Naomi approached. "You two, sweetheart," she warned, pointing her finger at Naomi, who smiled in return.

"We'll be careful, Missouri. Thank you so much for coming out here," she said as she gripped the older woman in a fierce hug. "I can't think you enough for all that you've done. If you ever need anything, give us a call." Dean nodded in agreement, holding the door open for Missouri as she slid into the car, smiling back at them warmly before aiming a solemn look at Dean.

"Remember what I said, Dean Winchester," she said pointedly, and Dean nodded before closing the car door and stepping back. They watched wordlessly as the car pulled away, disappearing down the driveway before Peyton cleared her throat, obviously tired of waiting.

"So here's the map with the coordinates." Peyton held out a slip of paper, and Naomi turned around, a fake smile on her face.

"Thanks. We'll see you there." She snatched the paper and walked over to the Impala, pulling open the passenger seat door and climbing in.

"Those aren't the exact coordinates, are they?" Dean cocked a brow, and Peyton chuckled slightly.

"Do you think I'd give you an exact location? Don't be stupid—not where your head is at." Peyton started to back up towards her car.

"Fine. Stay close—I drive fast." Dean fixed a smirk on his face as he walked around to the driver's side of his baby and slipped fluidly behind the wheel.

"I don't like her," Naomi muttered, and Dean turned to her and smiled.

"Have you seen her car?"

"Why the hell would I be interested in that skank's car?" Naomi glared at Dean, and he rolled his eyes.

"Look." Naomi followed Dean's gaze and began to laugh at the sports car that Peyton was getting into.

"God." Naomi's eyes widened at the yellow car that was sitting in front of their driveway. "What the hell kinda thing is that? At least you know I have a better car than her." Naomi laughed and Dean smirked before he cranked the car, revving the engine as he backed out of the garage and whipped the car around.

_All I have to do is keep her happy until Peyton leaves and we can get everything back to the way it's supposed to be. _


	5. Living on a Wing and a Prayer

**A/N: **For disclaimer, see chapter one.

Okay, So i majorly suck at writing this in a timely manner i know, i know, and i apologise but having Exams at school doesnt allowed you to have too much free time. Yeah, Its exam season and things are going a tad mad :(

But, I hope this chapter makes up for it! I've started work on the next one already! Yeah, so that should be out quicker than this one, and it coming up for summer too, so more writing time yay!

Anyways, thanks to **Camlann** for being an awesome beta, but the amount of work she put into this chapter she should totally get co-author credit!

Enjoy!

K

xox

* * *

Living on a Wing and A Prayer.

Naomi let her head bounce off of the window with a soft thud. Four hours into things and an uncomfortable silence had filled the car, proving just how fragile their relationship had become: they were both holding on to two ends of the same rope. A rope that was fraying somewhere in the middle.

_I've never felt this way with him before. _Naomi sighed quietly, shifting slightly in her seat._ I've never been anywhere near uncomfortable when I'm with him. Never. He's always made me feel so secure, as though I belong. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I caused this. He probably doesn't know where he stands with me anymore after my little display over the past few days. I have so much to tell him, but I just can't. Why can't I find it in me to talk to him? _

Naomi looked into the side mirror and tried to angle her head so as she could see Dean - his eyes firmly on the road, his face set in his customary emotionless mask. Naomi let out a soft sigh and dropped her eyes to the bandage on her right hand, internally mocking herself for being so stupid to cut her hand on a stupid plate. And of course, for being stupid enough to let things get this bad between her and the only man she had ever been truly, madly in love with.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, the blank mask still in place but a fresh look of concern in his shining green eyes.

"What? Oh...Yeah. I'm fine," Naomi told him, trying to smile. But she obviously failed miserably, she decided when Dean looked back at her, unconvinced.

_Shit, look away, Naomi, before he starts asking questions. _She immediately dropped her gaze back to her lap, hoping he'd take the hint, but of course, nothing was ever that simple with Dean Winchester.

"Babe, come on, don't lie to me. You've barely eaten anything in two days, and you've hardly slept. Now that alone, I might not have noticed. But the fact that you've made no effort to bug the hell out of me since we started driving four hours ago is enough to tell me that something's wrong, 'cause you never miss an opportunity to annoy me on long car trips--"

"Dean. I can't, okay. Not now." Naomi sighed. _I guess I do owe him some sort of explanation. _"I can't until we have him back. When he's sitting asleep on my lap and we're driving home, then I'll bug the hell out of you, okay? But until then--"

"Never mind, I understand," Dean whispered as he turned back to face the road properly, his fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his grip alternating between no grip and a fierce white-knuckled grip, a habit Dean had picked up when he was trying to control his emotions.

"No, Dean, look I'm sorry, alright." Naomi sat up properly in the seat and reached over to Dean, her bandaged right hand resting on his hand. "I just, I don't know how to deal with this. I'm going through the motions, I'm exhausted, I'm pissed off as hell at that blond bitch who's trying to sink her claws into you, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you." Naomi sighed again and tightened her grip on his hand, silently begging him to look at her. "I'm so sorry." Naomi swallowed hard, refusing to drop the subject or start crying again.

"I know." Dean faced Naomi and smiled at her. "I just don't want to lose you." Dean said all at once, his eyes flicking from his wife's face to the road and back again.

"You won't," she told him, her voice a little more breathy than she had intended. "I'm not going anywhere." Naomi gripped his hand on the steering wheel even tighter and Dean responded by letting go of the wheel with that hand to hold hers in his own.

"You need to eat something." Dean stated seriously, and Naomi nodded.

"Fine, we'll stop at the next diner we see that doesn't have cherry vinyl seats," Naomi replied with a soft smile, wondering if he'd remember the last time they'd stopped at a diner with cherry vinyl seats.

_That was back before things went so wrong. Back when Sam was still with us, and Sammy was safe inside me, with his father and his uncle looking after us both. _

"You're not wearing any red this time, so it should be fine," Dean said with a smirk, breaking into the morose train-of-thought that was once again pulling at her.

_That's why I love him—he just seems to always know just what I need, she thought, _shaking her head at Dean's laughter even as a smile lingered on her lips.

"We're gonna be alright," she murmured as Dean put his arm along the back of the seat so she could rest her head against his shoulder

"I know we are." Dean placed a kiss on her head, and rested his head against hers as her hand settled against his chest.

_Ew, Dean. You really shouldn't drink that fizzy crap you always _have_ to buy when you drive—if you're going to insist on it, at least use a napkin to wipe it up if you spill it, jeez. _

_Wait. This is too warm to be an ICEE drink… _

"What the…" Naomi trailed off and pulled back from him, her fingers coated in the thick red sticky substance.

"What?" Dean looked at her.

"You could have at least told me you were bleeding." She stated, her ocean blue eyes falling to the rapidly spreading stain on his shirt.

"I didn't notice..." Dean's eyes fell to the blood on his shirt, but Naomi had a feeling he was feeding her a line of bullshit.

"Pull over," Naomi commanded. "Dammit, Dean, how can you _not_ know you're bleeding?"

"Well it wasn't hurting that bad until you touched it, you know." Dean did as he was told, the Impala's tires coming to a stop at the side of the deserted country road that they were currently travelling.

"Get into the back seat, or sit on the hood." Naomi slipped fluidly out of the car and walked around to get the first aid kit out of the trunk, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

_Lately, it seems like all I do is patch up my husband's latest injuries._

_Why can't we ever get a break? _

* * *

Dean pulled himself stiffly from the car and slowly took his leather jacket off, millimeter by painful millimeter, dropping it on the driver's seat before walking to the front of the car and settling down onto the hood.

_It sure is a hot day for it being nearly Christmas, _he thought, trying to steer his thoughts away from the throbbing pain in his chest as he heard the trunk slam shut and the crunching sound of gravel as Naomi made her way towards him.

"You should have told me it was sore Dean." Naomi stated as she put the first aid kit down on the hood and opened it up. "I mean, come on, it's not as though it s a paper cut—it's a freaking six inch gash," Naomi muttered to herself as she fiddled around with the packaging of the needle as Dean pulled his shirt off, biting back a gasp of pain.

Naomi's hand trembled as she reached for the thread to re-stitch his wound. "You shouldn't be lifting all the heavy stuff—that's what tore the stitches…maybe I should have used actual stitches in the first place, what was I even thinking?" Naomi continued to mutter, her words seemingly taking her mind off of what she was about to do.

"Quit blaming yourself, Mimi—it's not a big deal. Besides, it's my own damn fault—I should have told you it might need actual stitches and not steri-strips," Dean tried to shrug, but the surge of pain halted his motions. "You've done it so many times before, and it's always worked—no reason to think it wouldn't work this time, too."

Dean smiled gently up at her as she nodded before she took a deep steadying breath and settled her hand on Dean's chest, right beside the wound. Dean knew she wanted to say something in that moment but the way her fingers were digging into him was evidence enough she was too worried about the blood seeping from his chest to trust herself to say anything. Dean's hands instinctively went to her hips, settling there comfortably, where they had always belonged.

"You're gonna have to let go, baby—you're stretching the skin," Naomi whispered softly, and Dean complied, letting his hands drop to the hood of the car again with a sigh.

Naomi stepped backwards a little and then leaned forward for better access before she pierced his skin with the needle.

"Shit." Dean swore, a groan of pain working its way up his throat.

"Sorry, babe, but it has to be done." Naomi placed a kiss to the area close to the wound before going back to her steady, neat line of stitches, tying off the last one before leaning over the first-aid kit. As she did so, a necklace slipped out of the vee of her blouse, a necklace Dean was damn sure he'd never seen before.

_Is that a crucifix? _Dean's eyes widened in shock. _Are you kidding me? Why the hell would she turn to God for comfort when He clearly doesn't exist, or if He does, he doesn't give a damn. Shit. Don't do it, Dean. Don't ask the praying question—you didn't like the last answer you got when you asked Sammy. _

But somehow, he couldn't seem to stop his mouth from opening anyway.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked, nodding pointedly at the crucifix that had slipped free of her collar to dangle in his face as she stood over him, gauze, bandage and antiseptic cream in hand.

"I pray a little, so what? It isn't a crime, Dean, and it's worked so far." Naomi shrugged, tying off the stitch before reaching for a bandage.

"Since when, though?" Dean pressed.

"Since the night…_that_ night." Naomi whispered, not being able to bring herself to say the words.

_Holy…_

"You've been praying for four years? And you didn't tell me?"

_What else is she hiding from me? _

"I've been praying most of my life, Dean, just more so recently. When you were in the hospital…babe, it's a few prayers a day that you come back to me safely. And yeah, you get banged around, but so far, you've always come back in relatively one piece. Maybe for you, it's just coincidence or blind luck, or just skill. But to me, praying is…it's a comfort. A small one, maybe, but I'll take what I can get. Faith is something personal, and I'm sorry if it hurts you, but it's not easy for me to talk about it. Besides, you've never made a secret of the fact that you're a skeptic. But I'm not like that, Dean. I just…I need something to give me some kind of hope, you know? Something to keep me going when you can't be here, when things get hard. My mom used to do it, too, and since my dad…I need _something_."

Naomi kept her eyes down as she continued in the methodical rhythm she always fell into when she was patching him up. "Are you upset with me?" Naomi whispered as she smoothed down the bandage.

"What?" Dean asked. "Why would I be?"

"I didn't tell you about me praying, and I know you're not the world's biggest supporter of organized religion…I'm not saying that you don't give me hope or anything, because that's not what I mean. I just…I dunno, since I was a little girl, I've always felt safer knowing there was a higher power looking out for me, even if I _did_ thumb my nose at Him for a long time. It's harder to ignore it, now, that need for someone bigger than myself to watch over me. Things are different now, you know?" Naomi looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in front of her as Dean pulled on the fresh shirt she had brought for him.

"No, Naomi. I'm not mad at you, I'm just annoyed that you felt the need to hide the fact that you're praying from me. Mimi, I... uh...I just... if praying makes you happy, then I'm not gonna stop you," he murmured, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

_And okay, so maybe I'm fucking lying out of my ass…but I can't let my opinions push her away. I just gotta suck it up and deal with it. I just want her to be happy again, and if that involves praying, then who am I to step in and take it away from her? As if she'd let me anyway. She'd just as likely tear me a new one if I tried. _

"I love you, too," Naomi smiled, and Dean folded his arms around her, pulling her against his wounded chest, and holding her against him, pressing kisses into her hair. _I _will_ fix this. I promise._

* * *

_Who lives in a pineapple under the sea… _Naomi lightly tapped the steering wheel to the tune that was playing in her head from one of Sammy's cartoons. The eight-hour drive was now pushing ten, and Naomi had had to practically wrestle driving rights from Dean, who was now blissfully passed out in the passenger seat. Naomi let out a soft sigh, her mind wandering as she blindly watched the buildings merge into a seemingly endless blur of color in this one horse town.

_I really should tell him. He deserves to know. But how do you bring something like that into a conversation at a time like this? Hey Dean, I know our son is missing, but..._

Naomi's eyes suddenly refocused, locking onto the large building at the corner, and without thought, she quickly switched lanes, causing Dean to rebound off the door and sit up, wiping his eyes.

"What are you doing to my baby?" Dean asked her, staring back at her drowsily, his hair all mussed up in the cutest of ways that reminded her so much of Sammy that, for a second, her heart ached.

"Nothing. Um. Dean...I need to do something right now..." Naomi let out a shallow breath as she pulled the car to a halt at the side of the kerb, turning in her seat to face Dean.

"Do what?." Dean rubbed his eyes and turned to face Naomi who swallowed hard. _I really shouldn't be getting used to the uncertainty in those eyes. What the fuck am I doing to him?_

"I don't want you to be mad at me for it though."

"Mimi, come on you're scaring me." Dean tilted his head to the side and Naomi took a deep breath.

"The building behind you." Naomi's eyes fell to her lap, and Dean kinked a brow.

"Naomi," he laughed slightly "You need to do the building behind me?." Dean tilted his head to side, his jaw clenching, obviously trying not to laugh at what he had just said.

"It's a church, Dean." Naomi whispered in a small voice and slightly raised her eyes to meet his. "I want to go in there."

"--okay." Dean's voice broke through Naomi's muttered sentence and she sat staring at Dean, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she could actually form words.

"Are you, I mean, are you okay with this?" Naomi's hands trembled slightly as Dean nodded before reaching out to hold her hands in his.

"If it's going to give you some hope of finding Sammy, then by all means go. I'll wait here." The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched, and Naomi leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to it.

"I'll be back in a bit," Naomi kissed Dean on the lips before getting out of the car and walking towards the large white building.

_He's totally not okay with this. _

Naomi pushed open the heavy oak doors and slipped inside the small church and let out a soft sigh. It was more instinct than anything when she dipped her hand in the Holy Water and blessed herself before making her way right to the front of the church, kneeling down in front of the statue of the Madonna, just to the left of the altar.

Naomi let out a heavy breath before raising her eyes to look at the figure of the mother and child and joining her hands. For a moment, it was all too reminiscent of those days when Dean had been in the hospital, trapped inside a coma and lost to her, when all she wanted was to hear his voice, and all she'd had instead was a struggling faith in a higher power.

_Um, It's me again. I guess I'm clutching at straws here, but being a mother you know how it feels when you lose a child and I know I'm asking for too much, because let's face it, I haven't exactly been the poster-child for faith over the years. But as a mother, I'm asking that I can have my son back -- safe and sound so I can get my family back on track. Please?_

Naomi let her eyes close, unable to hold back the tears that had threatened to consume her the moment she stepped over the threshold. Naomi stayed very still, as she became aware of an obvious presence behind her.

_Too many years spent in Dean's company, _she thought as she waited, a calmness washing over her when the presence knelt beside her, placing his hands over hands, joined in prayer.

"Are you alright?" the elderly man asked softly, and Naomi turned to him, the soft smile on her face contradicting the tears in her eyes.

"Not really, Father. My son is missing." Naomi began to tremble and took a shaky breath when the priest rested his hands on hers.

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Matthew 17:20" The priest sad and Naomi looked at him, not understanding what he was saying. "If you have faith that something will happen, it will." The priest smiled at Naomi and she nodded.

"Thank you, Father," she whispered and he nodded, giving her hand on last squeeze before turning back around to face the marble statue, allowing Naomi to do the same.

* * *

Dean tapped his hand against the dashboard.

_How the fuck do I always seem to screw everything up? If I had just come home from my futile hunt for Sam, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. If I had just been there for my family instead of going off for weeks at a time for my own selfish reasons, we would be at home right now, trying to hide Sammy's presents from him as he turned the house upside down looking for them._

Ah, fuck it.

He sat up properly in his seat and pulled the keys from the ignition, slipping out of the car and following the path his wife had taken ten minutes earlier -- up the steps and through the big oak doors. As the walls of the church surrounded him, he eyed the sanctuary nervously, as though lightning might strike at any minute. Shaking off the insane thoughts, his eyes came to rest on Naomi's trembling form, kneeling before a statue of Mary, the one figure that still made Dean cringe inside whenever he thought of her, a mother who bore the same name as his own mother, a mother whose death Dean still hadn't really gotten over yet. And of course, there was the man who had his hand on Naomi's…

_Would taking my gun out in a church be considered a sin? Who cares? I'm a fugitive. _Dean's hand stopped on the waistband of his jeans when he heard Naomi say thank you to the man.

_Father. He's a priest. Glad I didn't waste him then. Even if there isn't really a God, that might be pressing my luck.. _Dean let out a soft sigh before taking a deep breath he walked slowly forward, taking a seat in one of the pews close to the front and running his hand down his face.

_I can't believe I haven't been there when she needed _me_, that she has to go to some dude wearing a white collar in his pansy dress shirt to feel some comfort. How did I let things get this bad? _

Dean jumped when his knee collided with the pew in front, sending a pile of hymnals clattering to the floor.

_Oh sh—I mean, oops. _

Naomi and the priest both spun around and Naomi let out a relieved sigh, her hand resting on the priest's shoulder, "It's okay—he's with me. I should go," she murmured softly. "Thanks again, Father." Naomi stood, wiping her eyes and bowing in front of the small altar before she walked over to her husband, the priest disappearing through the other set of doors.

"Next time, make noise or something—you nearly gave me a heart attack." Naomi smiled gently down at Dean as he hastily picked up the fallen books with a quick glance around to make sure no one else was around to see.

"Sorry." Dean said in a whisper that made Naomi's grin even wider.

"You don't need to whisper, Dean." Naomi bowed before slipping into the pew beside Dean, effectively trapping him there.

"You've been crying," he stated, ignoring her comment.

"You're observant." Naomi tried to smirk but she couldn't seem to manage it and looked down avoiding Dean's gaze as she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered as he leaned forward, taking her into his arms and resting his head on hers, hiding his tears from her even as she hid hers from him. "I'm going to make this better, I promise." Dean whispered into Naomi's hair, taking comfort when he felt her arms wrap tighter around him.

_This is so not a prayer okay? Just so we're clear on that._ Dean looked up to the crucifix above the altar. _But, can You please help us get our son back? If not for me, then for her. She has some real faith in You—I don't know why, but she does. Just because I let her down on a daily basis, doesn't mean You should. She deserves better than that. Don't You think You owe her that much?_

"_We're_ going to make this better," Naomi corrected, breaking into Dean's chain of thought. "It's not just up to you—we're in this together, 'for better or for worse,' remember?" she stated as she looked up at him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Dean nodded once, his hand held tightly in Naomi's grasp as he let her lead him back out into the daylight.

_Hang on, Sammy. We're coming._

It was time to find their boy.

* * *

Dean sighed as he shut off the engine, smiling as Naomi stirred in her semi-peaceful sleep, her head leaning on his shoulder. He smiled down at her and eased himself out of her grip as slowly as possible to avoid fully waking her. Silently closing the door, Dean walked over to the reception area as fast as he could, unwilling to leave Naomi in the car as near to Sam as Peyton claimed they were for any great length of time, especially in the dark of night.

_Like hell I'll let Sam take Naomi from me, too._

The receptionist sitting behind the counter looked up at him with a suggestive smile. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, do you have any rooms free?" Dean asked wearily, just the thought of where she was going with this making him feel slightly irked. _As if I don't have enough problems already without some brainless twit trying to gain my attention._

"Will you be needing a king or two queens?" she asked again, her sickly sweet voice already driving Dean nuts.

_For the love of God, does she seriously think that I would go for her? I'm probably old enough to be her father._

"I need three kings." Dean's hand slipped into the coat pocket of his leather jacket for his wallet, trying to ignore the girl's smirk as she checked to see if there were any rooms available.

"Looks like you're in luck," she said, smiling up at him, and Dean put the credit card on the desk, sliding it forward with his left hand, making sure the brunette saw the silver band on his finger. Dean tried to hide his smile as she frowned at the ring and snatched at the credit card.

"Rooms twenty, thirty-six and thirty-nine," she practically snapped, getting up to retrieve the key cards before shoving them at him.

"Thanks," Dean replied, and with a smirk of his own, he took the cards, waiting as she pushed a pen and the receipt towards him, a glare on her face as she sat back down into her chair. Signing the fake name, he offered the girl a smart-ass grin. "Have a nice night now," he told her smugly before he turned and made his way back out to the Impala.

Dean ducked down to look in the window of the Impala, panic gripping him when it was empty. Straightening, he started moving backwards as his eyes searched the vacant parking lot, almost stepping right into the person that was coming towards him.

"Easy, Tiger." Naomi said as Dean turned around to face her.

"_Christo_," he said sharply, and Naomi simply kept her eyes open, pointedly staring into his green eyes, silently proving to him that there was nothing wrong. Convinced that she wasn't carting around a soulless demonic entity inside, he relaxed, frowning down at her. "What the hell were you doing, anyway?" he groused, mildly annoyed that she'd managed to catch him off-guard.

"I was trying to clean out some of the trash in your car—you eat enough to feed a small third-world country, and then you leave the trash all over the interior, which is, in a word, disgusting." Naomi smirked, trying to lighten the mood, the fear that he had accidentally shown obvious.

"Hey, a guy's gotta eat," he retorted, trying to shrug off the panic.

"A guy's gotta learn what a trash can is for." Naomi smiled as Dean walked around to the trunk to retrieve his and Naomi's belongings, pausing when headlights lit up the wall in front of him and a car pulled up beside him. Naomi's smile was enough to relax him when the doors of the other car opened and Bobby and Lola got out.

"Hey," Lola smiled over at Naomi, "It's been so long since I got to ride in her," Lola grinned at Naomi before turning around to the Mustang. "I missed you," she said affectionately, her hand tapping the smooth black roof.

"She missed you, too," Bobby stated as he began to walk in the direction of the little reception.

"I got rooms for you guys already," Dean remarked, anxious to get out of the parking lot and into the safety of a motel room. _Well, as safe as a motel room can be._ Bobby nodded, and Lola smiled quickly at Naomi again before walking around to the trunk of Bobby's car to get her bag.

"Where's the bitch?" Lola inquired pulling her brown leather weekend bag out of the trunk and looking around the empty parking lot.

"Dunno, I don't think she's turned up yet." Naomi shrugged as Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala closed. She walked towards him, picking up her bag before he could and smiling gently at him, her way of signaling to him that it wasn't a bad thing for her to be carrying her bag.

"Well if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna head off to bed. Give me a call if you need anything." Lola tried to stifle a yawn as Dean juggled the bags of belongings and weapons to get her key card out of his wallet.

"Will do." Naomi smiled at her friend as Lola took the card off of Dean and checked the number before giving a small smile as she walked away.

"Wait!" Dean called out suddenly, and Lola stopped dead in her tracks, slowly turning back around to face the trio as they stood in the parking lot.

"What?" she asked worriedly, eyes darting around the empty space.

"Salt," Dean stated as he pulled a spare canister out of the trunk of the Impala, walking over to her swiftly and handing her the salt. "Line every window, door and little crack in the wall you can see—it'll stop anything evil from getting in to your room." Dean stated, his jaw tight as he watched Lola silently nod and walk away, opening the door to her room and stopping before going inside. "Maybe I should—" he began, but Bobby cut him off.

"Son, why don't you go ahead and give me my key card, and _I'll_ check her room," Bobby offered, walking over to Dean with his hand held out. "You two go on and hit the sack, get some _real_ rest."

"Thanks Bobby," Dean said on a breath, and Bobby nodded minutely before patting Dean on the shoulder as he walked away.

"Let me know as soon as she gets here—and don't do anything without talking to me first," Bobby ordered Dean, eyeing him with a pointed look as he stopped beside Lola.

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered, shrugging off the older man's words even as he vaguely wished that Bobby wasn't so damn insightful.

_Not that I was necessarily going to _do_ anything…but I like to keep my options open. And if I learned nothing else from Dad, I learned that you don't make promises if you're not sure you can keep them._

"Dammit, boy, I mean it," Bobby told him sternly. "Don't you go off half-cocked and do something stupid," Bobby said, his gaze narrowing into a look that Dean recognized as one John Winchester had perfected long ago, a look that said, "Obey or die."

"Alright, alright—I hear ya'," Dean grumbled, knowing well enough that the older man wasn't going to let it go until he had Dean's assurance that he'd hold off on doing anything. Besides, if nothing else, Dean knew how to follow orders. He watched Bobby disappear after Lola before he turned back to Naomi, who was leaning against the Impala.

"Will you check _my_ room?" Naomi smiled at Dean, who smiled genuinely in return.

"How can I possibly say no when you ask so nicely?" he asked as he walked over and picked up the bags, lightly kissing her on the head, avoiding eye contact to hide the wince of pain at the movement as he took her hand and walked up to the room door. Dean took the key card out of his pocket, only to freeze as the front of the building was illuminated by the headlights of a car pulling into the parking lot with a roar. Beside him, Naomi sighed as the car came closer.

"Oh great, look who's here," Naomi stated, her voice dripping with biting sarcasm as she turned to face the door.

"Maybe if we ignore her, she'll just sniff us and go away," Dean mumbled, pulling a sharp laugh from Naomi, who was leaning against the door frame watching the swanky silver sports car pull into the space next to the Impala.

"Winchester!" Peyton called from the open window, and with a weary sigh, Dean turned to face her, dropping the bags to the ground and propping himself up in the doorway, across from Naomi.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, eyes flicking around the motel parking lot, waiting for some hellion to appear form the shadows.

"I have some place I need to be, but I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow to discuss everything," Peyton said, her voice purposefully low.

"Are you _shittin'_ me?!" Dean yelled, his temper flaring, even as Peyton looked around with a wince, obviously checking to see if anyone had heard the outburst. "My kid is out there—"

"Oh, calm the fuck down! Sammy's safe where he is for right now, and we can't just barge in there with some half-ass plan—you of all people should know that. So just sit tight and wait until I come for you tomorrow morning. I'll know more then. Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Peyton told him, casting another quick glance over her shoulder.

_Yeah, I bet you do. And you're just looking over your shoulder for kicks. _

"Look, bitch, I don't know you, and right now, I'm only working on the faith Bobby has for your family. You have done nothing to prove you're up to the job, so do _not_ sit there when my son is missing and tell me to calm the fuck down," Dean told her, his voice was dangerously low as he dropped the nonchalant pose he'd adopted and took a few steps towards Peyton's car.

"Dean," Naomi warned gently, her hand wrapping around his bicep as much as it could as she tried to reel him back towards her. "She still hasn't told us where the hell Sam is, so until she does, we can't afford to have you putting any extra holes into her, yeah?" Naomi reasoned, and with a frustrated growl, Dean stepped back and picked up the bags again, turning his back on the current bane of his existence, trusting Naomi to handle the situation way more than he trusted himself at that moment. Dean fiddled with the key card, the anger that was coursing through his veins making swiping the damn thing difficult.

Peyton glared at Naomi, her eyes filling with obvious hatred that Naomi returned in abundance. "No need to thank me or anything," Naomi stated, a smirk on her face as Peyton whispered something under her breath. "Listen, just because I stopped him from ripping you to shreds doesn't mean I'll stand in his way when you stop being useful," Naomi warned.

"You shouldn't make threats to the only person who can save your family," Peyton smirked back.

"I thought you and I were clear on this—I don't make threats." Naomi cocked her head to the side, her calmness promptly causing Peyton to clench her jaw and put her car into reverse, pulling out of the parking lot and speeding away.

"Nicely handled." Bobby nodded in Naomi's direction who looked up and gave him a small smile.

"She's not worth the aggravation." Naomi said dismissively as Dean finally opened the door and walked in, without looking in the older man's direction.

"Watch him. He's gonna need you to help him through this." Bobby warned as soon as Dean disappeared into the room.

"We're gonna get each other through this, Bobby," Naomi told him softly before following Dean in, flicking on the light switch as she closed the door and locked it behind her.

"I thought we had left this whole 'crappy motel situation' behind us," Naomi smiled sadly as she leaned heavily against the door. Dean turned to face her then, as he dropped his bag on the bed.

"I thought you had, too," he said, his voice full of guilt, and Naomi let out a sigh.

"Make's a change from the office, though." Naomi shrugged, trying to stop the vicious blaming cycle from kicking off again. Dean managed a small smile as he took the canister of salt from the bag and started laying the salt-lines around the room, his methodical movements filling Naomi with a sense of comfort that she didn't understand.

Naomi pushed off of the door when Dean was almost to her and walked over to the bed, settling her stuff next to Dean's as she sat down heavily.

"Things going well with work?" Dean asked, carefully keeping the subject away from the current situation.

"Yeah, the new line is being launched the day after Christmas." Naomi shrugged off her jacket and tossed it in the direction of the chair, failing miserably as the leather coat hit the floor, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I forgot how lazy you where," he stated as she got up and picked the jacket up from the floor, knocking her bag down in the process.

"You're one to talk, Mr. I-Leave-A-Mess-Everywhere-I-Go," she said playfully, frowning as Dean bent to lift her fallen bag to the table and winced as he straightened. "You alright, babe?" she asked worriedly, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean told her, the lie no doubt coming automatically, she knew, a habit formed so long ago that it had become second nature to him. Stepping around her, he shucked his boots, jeans and t-shirt, and dropped onto the bed, shoving the rest of their things off the foot of the bed with a well-placed nudge of his foot. "C'mon, Mimi, come to bed. We could use the sleep."

As Naomi shed her own clothes and grabbed for his t-shirt, pulling it over her head and crawled into bed beside him, she didn't bother to mention that it wasn't likely either of them would be getting much sleep. After all, it wasn't exactly a secret.

_

* * *

_

_Naomi settled back down in her chair, muttering a prayer as she listened to the almost rhythmic noises of the machines surrounding Dean's bed and picked up the scrapbook she had brought with her, the plain, unadorned album filled with pictures of her and Dean together, with dates and places written on the back. She took the handful of photographs from the back of the book and picked up her pen, ready to date and place the latest additions._

_"Why do you just keep getting better with age, babe? It's hardly fair," Naomi told him, pretending like she always did that he would reply. Maybe it was foolish of her; she knew the doctors thought so, but then again, Dean responded to her more than anyone else. They were always amazed at how much of a response she could get from him, getting him to move his feet, his arms, his hands, getting him to wrinkle his nose for her, but the one thing she could never seem to do, though, was to get him to wake up._

_"You know you're driving me crazy here—it's not fair that I have to sit here and talk to myself, Dean," Naomi muttered away as she dated the wedding pictures and slipped them into the proper page of the book. Naomi smiled softly when Dean's fingers twitched on the bed and his hand moved slightly. Naomi leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers and stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. "You have to wake up for me, babe. Please?" Naomi asked before getting up carefully from the chair and placing the book on it, sitting on Dean's bed and resting his hand on her stomach where their son began to kick fiercely. "See? He wants you awake, too, Dean. Come on, I can't do this on my own." Naomi bit back the tears as a single tear slipped down Dean's cheek._

_"He's probably the most responsive patient we have in this ward," said a voice from behind, and Naomi turned to see one of Dean's doctors standing in the doorway. _

_  
"But he still won't wake up." She smiled sadly at the doctor who made his way over to the bed._

_"I really don't want to be the one to tell you this bu--"_

_"Then don't," she all but snapped, and the doctor sighed._

_"Mrs. Winchester, you have to know the risks that you're taking here," the doctor said firmly, his eyes being drawn to the machines that were beginning to bleep at an erratic pace. The doctor turned and walked towards the call button that was sitting beside Dean's bed only stopping when Naomi called for him._

_"Don't bother," Naomi told him. "He'll calm down again when you apologise and leave." Naomi's glare burned through the doctor, and he sighed heavily. "And, for the record, I know the risks of keeping him alive like this, but I also know the risks if he's not around." Naomi turned back to her husband and clasped her hand over his as the doctor shook his head sadly and walked out of the room, leaving Naomi to mutter the prayer she was about to start when he rudely interrupted her. _

_

* * *

_

"Dean, please!" She woke up sobbing, her hands reaching for Dean, who had immediately shifted towards her.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting up and pulling her into his chest as he rocked her back and forth, obviously not sure what else to do. She wanted to tell him, but at that moment, all she could do was cry against his battered and bruised chest, a desperate ache in her chest as she recalled what it was like to be without him. Dean held her, not pushing for answers, as though he sensed she just needed him to hold her. Eventually, her sobbing subsided, and Dean gently dropped back to the mattress, pulling her along with him.

She lay in the darkness—for how long she didn't know—her head on Dean's shoulder as his hand slowly massaged the bottom of her back.

"Dean?" Naomi began, lifting her head from his shoulder to move closer to him and place her head gently on his chest over his heart.

"Mmm?" Dean's voice reverberated through his chest and Naomi felt her eyes flutter close at the sound.

"I've never told you, but…when you were in the hospital…you know, after Sam…I honestly thought that I was going to lose you." Naomi's voice was a soft whisper as she felt Dean's arms wrap tighter around her.

"But you didn't, Naomi—I'm right here," Dean placed a kiss against Naomi's hair and she sighed softly.

"Yeah, but back then, Dean, I was scared that I wasn't going to be able to do it anymore, that one day, I was going to wake up, and you weren't going to be there anymore, that you weren't going to be there when I went to bed every night." Naomi felt a fresh round of tears starting to flood into her eyes. "I made it, though—that's why I pray, Dean. It helped pull me through, helped me keep going until you were there beside me again, you and our amazing little boy." Dean's hand resumed its smooth circular movements on her lower back as if in tune to how completely broken she was.

"I hated the fact you weren't there when I had him. My dad tried his best, he really did—but he wasn't you." Naomi bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying again, and Dean sighed against her head.

"I probably would have freaked out anyway. Tears me up inside whenever I see you in so much pain," Dean confessed, and Naomi let out a loud laugh.

"Oh, Dean, you should have seen Dad. I swear to God, he was all teary-eyed and telling me it was alright, then sobbing—it kinda blurred the pain, though." Naomi looked up at Dean's jaw, catching the slight twitch.

"Didn't stop me from wanting _you_, though. Do you know what I was thinking about the whole twelve hours I was in labor?"

"How stupid your dad looked?" Dean ventured, his voice thick.

"Nope. Guess again." She felt Dean swallow.

"Me?" he asked softly, and Naomi smiled, nodding.

"Yes, I was thinking about you, worrying that you might wake up when I wasn't there and think that I'd abandoned you. I was thinking about how brave you were, how hard you fought to stay alive for me and how much you were looking forward to seeing the baby. That you weren't there to see him." Naomi felt the twitch in Dean's jaw against her head and she sat up to look him in the eye. "When he was born, I couldn't believe how much he reminded me of you—it was crazy."

Naomi smiled up at Dean as his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"But somehow, when I looked at Sammy's face, it was almost okay. It was like having you there with me, and I guess I knew then that I was doing the right thing by holding on to you, even when the doctors told me there wasn't much hope for you waking up." Naomi fell silent, her head pillowed on Dean's chest once more as she paused to let Dean process all of the information.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," Dean said, his voice no louder than a whisper as his hands came up to hold her even closer to him, the pain of his injuries seemingly forgotten.

"No, thank _you_ for not giving up on _me_." Naomi smiled back at him and pressed against him, unable to stop the few tears that were beginning to leak down her cheeks.

_He's going to think you're losing it if you keep this up, Naomi, _she told herself sternly. _I can't keep putting off telling him. But when is the right time?_

* * *

_"Don't worry too much about Daddy, baby, cause he's not always gonna be this quiet," Naomi promised the bundle of life in her arms. "And Daddy loves you very much, just like Momma." Naomi kissed her son's hand as a stray tear dripped onto his little forehead, the salty water running down onto his little cheek. "Sorry, angel," Naomi whispered against his pudgy little fist, using the edge of his blanket to wipe the tear gently off of his face. _

_Dean's hand twitched again, and Naomi smiled before reaching out to cover it with her own, her smile deepening when she felt his hand clasp tightly around hers. _

_"Dean?" Naomi asked, scrambling to her feet without losing the grip she had on the precious baby she held in her hands as he husband began to cough and fight the breathing tube that the doctors had kept him on after the complications that had accompanied his punctured lung. "Dean!" Naomi screamed before turning towards the door. "I need some help in here!" Naomi yelled, turning back to Dean and squeezing his hand tightly, "Shhh, it's okay, Dean, everything's going to be okay," Naomi soothed as she cradled their now screaming little boy in her arms. "It's going to be okay."_

_Hours later, Naomi settled carefully against Dean's side as he gazed down in awe at the little boy in his arms._

_"He's perfect," Dean murmured, his throat still too painful for him to speak much louder than a whisper. He grinned up at her as his son latched onto his finger tightly. "When was he born?" Dean's tear-filled eyes left his son and looked at Naomi, who gently cupped his jaw._

_"Two days ago." Naomi kissed Dean's forehead and glanced down at her son in his arms. "He still needs to be named." Naomi looked up at Dean again, a smile etched on her face._

_"You mean you never...well, hell, I just sort of figured your dad woulda stepped in and named him." And right then Dean's eyes filled with something Naomi had never seen in him before: hope, peace, a sense of belonging that Naomi prayed he actually felt. _

_"Just because my dad was there when I delivered mini-Winchester doesn't mean to say I'm all for the guy naming my kid. Poor little guy would have ended up being an Albert or something equally bad." Naomi shuddered, and Dean chuckled, momentarily forgetting about the stab wound to his chest._

_"So, what do you want to call him?" Dean looked back down at the tiny human cradled carefully against him, smiling in awe at the kid's features._

_"Wait until he's fully awake and take a look at his eyes." Naomi told him with a full-on grin. "And I still wanna call him Dean." _

_"You might hate me for this, and I dunno if you read the letter I wrote for you, but uh..." Dean trailed off and bit down on his lip._

_"What?" Naomi asked gently, "Dean, you've been in a coma for over eight weeks—I thought you were gonna die. I'm not going to hate you. Just tell me what you want to say." Naomi smiled before placing another kiss against Dean's temple._

_"I wanna call him Sam." Dean swallowed hard and Naomi froze, her body going rigid against his. "Never mind." Dean looked back down at his boy and tried to smile, forcing a grin at his son as he fought back tears._

_"Dean...I..." Naomi felt a little part of her break inside at the clear pain on Dean's face, by the sheer fact that he couldn't even look at her. "Why?" she asked softly, her voice not capable of more than a whisper._

_"He was my brother, and no matter what happened, he was a good kid." Dean's voice broke, and Naomi let out a steady breath before she wrapped her arms around Dean, placing soft kisses in his hair as she held him and their son as best as she could manage without hurting either of them. _

_"Sammy, then. We can call him Sammy," she whispered, nodding as she felt Dean's body begin to tremble slightly, a true sign that he was finally allowing himself to grieve over the loss of his brother - a brother that wasn't truly gone, but had sacrificed all that had made him "Sam" to save his family. Dean didn't make any verbal reply; he simply leaned further into her touch, allowing her to hold him, allowing her to try and make things better. Allowing her all the way in, like he should have done, a long time ago._

_

* * *

_

Peyton grinned as she entered the bar, the smoky, hazy atmosphere enough to make anyone cough their lungs up. But just this once, she was gonna suck it up and tolerate it, because tonight was the night, the night where she'd get this thing sorted, the deal made and maybe even get a couple of drinks in.

"Now, what's a pretty girl like you doing alone in a bar like this, sweetheart?" The male voice made Peyton turn around, her blond hair swinging with the sharp movement of her head.

"You came." Peyton's mouth turned up at the corners in a sinister smile as she followed him to a secluded booth, slipping onto the bench across from him.

"What can I say? Your offer was too damn appealing to turn down. So is it still on the table?" The man grinned again, his shaggy brown hair flicked out at the edges giving him a youthful appearance that was contradicted by the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the lines around his mouth.

"Oh, it still stands." Peyton grinned, her fingers running over the man's hand. "So…I didn't catch your name." Peyton looked at him again.

"Craig," the man stated simply, and Peyton nodded, appreciating a man who could dispense with the bullshit and cut right to the chase. Even if he wasn't quite what he appeared

"So, Craig, are you going to take me up on that offer? Because there are plenty of people who would _kill_ to be in your shoes. If you catch my drift..." Peyton smirked, her voice suddenly dripping with menace, an edge to her tone that had Craig shifting back from her, his eyes narrowing as they turned pitch black.

"Oh, I'm more than interested in your little offer, but I need hard, solid proof before I touch it with a ten-foot pole." Craig's smirk matched Peyton's, as he lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "You're playing with fire, girl, and you know what they say: if you play with fire, you're going to get burned. And you will. For that simple reason, _nobody's_ gonna make a move without some assurance that you can deliver."

"How am I supposed to bring you proof?!" she snarled, and Craig shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't care how you do it, princess—all I care is that you do." Craig shrugged and reached for the beer that was on the table.

"I know people like you don't work on trust, but come on, you know you can't resist this." Peyton cajoled, tired of the loose ends and wanting nothing more than to seal the damn deal already. As it was, it only pissed her off when Craig laughed and shook his head.

"Sweetheart, I'm no fool—I've played this game before, and I know the damn rules. I wanna see some hard proof that we're backing the right horse. Until then, you're shit outta luck." Craig took a large swig of his beer, and Peyton let out a snort.

"Fine. Have it your way." She slipped her jacket off and turned to face Craig, pressing the knife through his heart, a wicked grin passing over her features as she watched the man before her writhe in pain, the jolts of electricity passing through him before she pulled the metal free and slipped it back under her jacket, taking a pull of his beer before she left the booth.

_Looks like I'll just have to find the next highest bidder, someone who's not too pansy-assed to commit._

_

* * *

_

Naomi sighed softly against Dean's shoulder, having once again managed to calm herself down enough to be able to think semi-clearly. "It's strange how homey this feels," Naomi whispered against his shoulder.

"I was serious earlier…this isn't the life I wanted for you," Dean murmured, and Naomi relished the feel of his voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating under her cheek.

"Dean, I don't care what kind of life I get, as long as I get to spend it with you," Naomi thought out loud, her voice sounding sincere.

"I know that these past few years haven't been all that great for you, baby, and I know I've let you down in so many ways and so many times, but…I just…Sam's my brother, you know? And I can't give up on him just yet, Mimi, I just can't" Dean whispered against Naomi's hair.

"I know Dean, and I get it, I do. Hell, _I_ wanted Sam back for a while, too. But after spending day after day watching you lie there in that hospital bed, I started to hate him. And you spent so much time away from home looking for him that I guess my feelings towards Sam just slowly started making its way into our relationship." She ran her hand over Dean's chest, scars old and new, considering her words carefully, words she'd never imagined actually saying to him, but words that needed to be said nevertheless.

_I wasn't banking on it all coming out tonight, but I guess everything happens for a reason. _

"Dean, I guess part of me wishes that you had let him go a long time ago. But then again, I don't blame you for hanging on to him. I mean, for so long, he was all you had—how can I blame you for that?" Naomi swallowed hard and felt Dean nod against her head.

"You know what's gotten me through all of this shit with Sam?" Dean's soft-spoken question had her pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye.

"What?" Naomi asked, her hair falling to frame her face as she looked down at him.

"You," Dean said honestly. "Knowing I had you to come home to was the only thing that made it worthwhile. I mean, every damn time I came home beat-to-hell and disappointed 'cause I couldn't find him…you were there waiting for me." Dean's eyes gazed down at Naomi, full of regret and hurt and pain.

"It's gonna be alright, Dean." Naomi cupped his jaw and let her thumb stroke along his bottom lip. "When we get our baby back, we're going to be a family again," she promised him wholeheartedly, her hair falling like a curtain around them as she dropped her head to kiss him firmly on the lips.

"Let go get our son," Dean whispered against her lips, grinning down at her when she pulled back.

"Hell yeah," she told him with a resolute nod. "I'm through letting that bitch stand in our way."

* * *

**Review please? :D**


	6. You Tried to Slip Past his Defence

Hello! It's been so long since I've posted any part of this story, I am so so so sorry for the delay! life just got in the way, I do hope this was worth the wait!

Seeing as it has been so long, i'm going to give you a mini** summary**:

_It's three years later, Naomi is working with a fashion firm, Sammy is three and adorable and Dean is away a whole lot looking for Sam. Sam has shacked up with Ruby in a friends with benefit situation and he has kidnapped Sammy to "keep him safe". But from what? Naomi and Dean are falling apart, the familiar guilt trips that Dean puts himself through are ever present as he shoulders all of the blame for his sons absence. Naomi Is full of secrets, she's been praying and kept it from Dean, but what else is she hiding? Also, Bobby's friend's daughter Peyton is causing friction within Clan Winchester and has helped them find where Sam is keeping Sammy, but are her actions for the greater good or does she have her own agenda?_

I don't _think_ I've missed anything out, but feel free to let me know that i have :P

**Disclaimer**; See chapter 1.

Also, a huge assed massive thanks to my Bet **Camlann**, she's made this what it is. Camlann, without you this wouldn't have happened, you truly are awesome 3 So, without further ado, to the 16, 127 word chapter :P (yeah, i do have entire stories shorter than this!)

xox

* * *

You Tried to Slip Past his Defence, Without Granting Innocence.

_There was a whizzing sound just by Naomi's ear, a grunt of pain from Sam, and then Sammy was free. Naomi stopped walking, her eyes going wide in terror as she dropped to her knees._

"_NO! Sammy! Don't move!" she yelled, but Sammy's little legs were already propelling him towards her. She heard more than saw the next shot, followed by Dean's muffled grunt of pain, and without thought, she threw herself to her feet, running towards her son. _

_Another loud bang permeated the air, eliciting another stifled groan of pain from Dean's direction. Naomi couldn't risk sparing a glance in his direction, though, her heart and head focused solely on getting her son in her arms. She lunged for Sammy and grabbed at him; another loud shot rang out, but this time the loud cry of pain was much closer to where she was, so much closer. The muffled groan came from the bundle in her arms. _

"_Sammy?" she whispered, the icy cold grip of terror clutching at her heart, ripping at it as her hand gripped her son's back, the damp, warm almost sticky feeling slowing down her heart rate until Naomi was certain it had stopped. "Sammy? No! Goddamn it, Sammy! Open your eyes, right now! It's not even that bad, sweetie-Momma'll just put a band-aid on it and it'll be okay. Sammy?" Her son's body went lifeless and heavy in her arms, his head lolling onto her chest._

_The rain pelted down as Naomi sank further into the mud. Clutching Sammy to her and sobbing hard, inhaling the scent of his hair, feeling his cooling cheek against her neck. _

"_Sammy." It was a broken whisper, and suddenly needing Dean like she'd never needed him before, Naomi cast a glance over at her husband lying face down in the mud, motionless. "Dean?" she cried, her voice shaky. "Dean, wake up!" she yelled, tightening her grip around Sammy as another onslaught of vicious sobs wracked her body. _

"_They're gone." Bobby's voice was so soft she thought she had imagined it, until she felt two warm arms encircle her, whispering soothing words, kissing her on the head, their grip only tightening when she let out a loud scream._

Naomi sat bolt upright in bed, her trembling form drenched with sweat as she blinked wide eyes around the softly lit motel room. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the comforter as she struggled to get her rapid breathing under control. When Naomi's eyes finally fell to the bed again, Dean was propped up on his side, his hand supporting his head as his other hand slid over to rest on her thigh.

"You scared the shit out of me," Dean told her evenly, and to anyone else that would have been a blatant lie, something that was said because it seemed like the appropriate thing to say in that moment. But Naomi could read Dean, the flicker of fear in his eyes, the edge of his pistol peeking out from under his pillow, betraying the truth behind his words. And the fact that he was wide awake but hadn't yet properly reached for her yet only further convinced her that he was telling the absolute truth, caution holding him back in case she was possessed . _Or crazy, _Naomi told herself. _Bat-shit crazy is definitely an option. _

"Sorry." Naomi tried a small smile, but Dean simply pushed himself up into a sitting position and moved closer to her, taking both of her hands into one of his bigger ones.

"You wanna tell me what all the screaming was about?" Dean used his free hand to tilt Naomi's face in his direction, forcing her to look at him.

"No," Naomi answered truthfully. _You totally suckered yourself there, Dean. Pulling the 'I'm the big brother shit' on your wife is a little lame. You _know_ I won't cave unless you pull out the big guns. Besides, _you_ never talk, so why the fuck should I? _Naomi made to pull her face out of Dean's grip, but he let her chin go with a soft sigh and a shake of his head.

"Fine," Dean told her, his voice slightly edged with hurt, before he moved away completely, getting up off of the bed and walking towards the table leaving a very confused Naomi sitting on the bed.

"Dean?" Naomi asked, cocking her eyebrow as she untangled herself from the comforter and made to step off of the bed. When Dean didn't answer, Naomi let out a small breath, staring back at him with an aching sense of loss in her chest. _This isn't how it's supposed to go, _she thought to herself. _There was supposed to be hugging and talking and kissing, and that's when I'd tell Dean what was bothering me, and he'd make it better. Right enough, I'd usually wake up in his arms…_

"What? You don't wanna talk—it's fine." Dean shrugged as though completely in tune with her, as though able to read her thoughts without even looking at her. "I'm not gonna force you."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." Naomi's barefoot made contact with the threadbare carpet and she stopped as she noticed the defeated slump in Dean's shoulders, now not knowing whether to be extremely grateful that Dean wasn't going to put her through telling him about her dream or incredibly guilty that Dean was _hurt _because she wouldn't.

"You don't force me," he continued on, as though Naomi hadn't said a word "So it'd be pretty damn hypocritical of me to make _you_. I'll, uh, listen if you, you know, wanna talk, but yeah, I'm not gonna force it." There was something heavy in Dean's voice that Naomi desperately wanted to question, something that sounded a lot like exhaustion and similar to rejection but somehow Naomi couldn't bring herself to press that particular issue right now. So in the end, she didn't.

"Thanks, babe." Naomi replied instead, ignoring the chill that began to set into her bones as she made her way over to Dean, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and placing a kiss against his shoulder. "You find the ritual?"

_And after spending so much time bitching about how he never talks about his issues, how big of a hypocrite does that make me that I'm avoiding the issues now? I'm doing what he does, aren't I? I'm dealing with life the way he does, forcing the issue down until I can't see it anymore and then pretending it doesn't exist. Great. I'm such a hypocrite. Huh. I guess I understand how he feels now. I should never have kept pushing. Damnit._

"I found a few. Not sure which are poetry and which are the real deal, though." Dean leaned into Naomi and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding before placing another kiss to his bare shoulder.

"We could try them all—no harm right?" Naomi ventured as she moved around to Dean's side, head resting against his shoulder and her hand never leaving the small of his back as a sudden need to have some form of connection with him burned within her, fueling her fears that the fragile connection between them which they had both been vehemently trying to fix was just as broken, if not more so, as it was before.

"We _could_ try them all, but it would be a waste of time, and we don't have much as it is," he pointed out as he sorted through the pile of paper on the table, muscles shifting under his cool skin beneath Naomi's palm.

"Okay, well which ones look real?" Naomi tried again, hand moving in small circles, trying to warm him up.

Dean let out a loud sigh and shuffled through the papers, holding three pages out wordlessly. He looked down at her and Naomi took them from him.

"So, do we do all three?" Naomi asked, her gaze flicking from the pages to Dean's gaze.

"Well, now that I've got it narrowed down to these three, I figured we could ask Bobby." Dean turned from her and walked over to the dresser on the other side of the room, leaning on it heavily.

"Yeah, because he'll hand over information like that without questioning why we want it." Naomi wanted to force the words back into her mouth as soon as she'd said, the snarky tone in her voice shattering the fragile calm in the room.

"Well you come up with something then!" Dean spun around and looked Naomi in the eye.

_Oh. Shit._

"You come up with some fantastic way to get our son back because this is the only way I can think of! It's all I've got!" Dean barked back at her, turning around to the dresser again, his shoulders shaking and chest heaving as he fought for control.

"Dean-" Naomi began, wanting to apologize, wanting to tell him to calm down before he hurt himself, wanting so badly to wake up any moment and tell Dean what was bothering her. But that didn't happen, and before she could say anything, she was cut off by a loud smash as the lamp shattered on the floor, followed swiftly by the phone.

_No, don't, Dean. Come on. Not this way, you _know_ you only hurt yourself more. Come on, baby, let's find another way to help you. How did I calm him down before? _Naomi bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She didn't have enough energy to fight with him, but she as sure as hell wasn't going to stand back and let him do _this_ to himself either.

"Dean!" Naomi yelled, letting out a huff of a breath as she marched over to where he was standing, suddenly gripping his wrist. He pulled back, startled, almost knocking her to the floor, and it was only his quick reaction that kept her upright as he grabbed her by the arms and steadied her.

"Are you crazy? I could have seriously hurt you!" he fumed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he checked her over for any injuries nonetheless, making sure she was okay.

"What does it matter?" Naomi screamed back. "You do it all the damned time!" she exploded, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as the painful words escaped, harsh, cutting words that she'd never meant to say.

"That's not what I meant," he murmured. "I just didn't want to accidentally hit you," he told her softly, glancing away, dragging a weary hand down his face.

"Dean, I didn't-"

"Don't. You and I both know that you meant every damn word," Dean grit out, his jaw set. "Christ, Naomi. I thought we were past this?" Dean sighed and shook his head, his jaw working as he fought to control his emotions._ That's it Naomi, kill him slowly. _

"Yeah..." Naomi let out a breath and leaned heavily against the table. "Look. I didn't mean to say it like that, alright? I know you don't mean it and I know I'm not the easiest person on the planet to live with. I'm sorry for hurting you, Dean, I really am. I don't want this. I don't want to fight with you anymore." She shook her head and looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing all she would find would be tears and pain, and she couldn't face that.

"I don't wanna fight, either," Dean conceded, dropping heavily onto the bed.

Naomi let out a slow breath and looked everywhere but at Dean. She couldn't watch the fight drain out of him anymore. She'd seen it too many times, knew how it looked, knew how it hurt. The fact that Dean was the one stepping down hurt more than the argument itself. Her mother had always told her that when a couple stops arguing, that's when they stop caring. The truth was, though, Naomi hadn't stopped caring, she'd just grown tired of fighting. As had Dean, by the looks of things. Naomi glanced at him, shoulders slumped, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands. Sure, they'd had arguments before, but it had never really ever come to this, to the point where it was a stalemate, where there was nothing and everything left to say.

_The thing is, _Naomi reasoned,_ Dean always just knows how to make things better for me. He always knows how to make me smile when all I want to do is cry. He just knows how to calm me down when I'm mad. If I'd let him..._

_Don't mess this up, Naomi._

Naomi looked up then, catching Dean's eyes. "God, I'm so sorry." Naomi all but threw herself into Dean's waiting arms, tears crowding against her closed eyes as she buried her face in the side of him neck.

"Yeah, me too. Listen, about those rituals...we don't have to ask Bobby. We could just go ahead without him, if that's what you want," Dean offered as he ran a hand up and down Naomi's back.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you." Naomi pulled back and took time to look Dean in the eye, properly seeing him for the first time in a long time: the little wrinkles around his eyes, the faint scars across his face, the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. Every line and every scar told a story, a hunt gone south, too many sleepless nights watching over a family that fell apart on him anyway, the pressure of being the tie that bound his family together, the solid consistency that allowed everyone else to gravitate to and away from him, all the while keeping them close.

"What?" Dean asked, a light blush creeping over his face as he looked away and cleared his throat. "Quit staring at me like that. Makes me nervous."

"Sorry," Naomi smiled slightly, cupping his jaw and biting back the tears when Dean leaned into her touch. "I've missed you." she told him in a slightly husky voice, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I keep forgetting all the little things, Dean. I don't mean to forget, but I do, then you'll say something and I'll remember and it hurts because I forgot."

Naomi was well aware she was rambling, but she couldn't stop. It was as though Sammy being taken by Sam was some sort of catalyst that made her brain-to-mouth filter switch off, and everything she wanted to say but never said came roaring out, the reality of how quickly Dean could be gone from her once again rearing its ugly head.

"I've missed you, too." Dean looked back at her and Naomi felt the twitch of his jaw beneath her palm. "I've missed finding your endless collection of hair ties all over the damn place, even though your hair is always pinned up, never tied back. I've missed finding chick magazines in with the case files I'm shipping off to Bobby's. I've missed stepping on sewing needles and having glitter all over the weaponry and in the holy water. Pretty sure that's where _Twilight_ came from, seriously." When Naomi chuckled slightly, Dean ducked his head and carried on. "I miss just coming home without feeling like crap for being away, I miss the times when it didn't matter how long I was gone, when it was just enough to hear your voice. I miss what we had." He paused for a moment, the solemn look in his eyes suddenly replaced by a hint of a familiar, mischievous gleam. "And I _really _miss the times when you didn't put me through all this chick flick shit." Dean looked back at Naomi, obviously trying to gauge her reaction and break the tension with a well timed joke.

_Oh, Dean. _Naomi felt her heart swell with a sudden burst of happiness and almost relief at her husband's confession.

"I can't believe you _remember_ half that stuff, let alone miss it." Naomi smiled at Dean through her tears, tears of bittersweet memories. "I miss that too you know, just being us, being a family. I actually miss the obscene drawings in the bathroom mirror that I'd yell at you for but not really mean because you'd written 'I love you'with a little smiley face beside them. I miss getting random texts with positions from the _Kama Sutra_. I miss you switching all of my Bon Jovi cassettes with Led Zepplin in an effort to _improve my musical tastes._"

"Hey! They need improving." Dean looked up at Naomi, a shadow of his infamous smirk playing across his face.

"Do not," Naomi all but pouted, snuggling closer to Dean as she took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, Dean. I miss not fighting with you. Well, that's not entirely true," Naomi corrected, a flirty smile on her face. "I miss fighting with you over what side of the bed we're sleeping on and ending up having an all night session because it's the only compromise we can come to. I do miss not fighting with you over hunts, though."

"Okay. So general consensus is no more fighting unless it leads to fun stuff." Dean looked up at Naomi before taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. "Naomi." He sighed and Naomi bit her lip, her heart thundering in her ears as she waited for him to deliver grim news, his suddenly somber expression giving him away. "This thing with Sam..." Dean let out a heavy breath and Naomi felt him trembling against her. "It ends when we get Sammy back. I can't keep fighting for him anymore."

"Dean." Naomi cupped Dean's jaw again and tilted his tear-filled gaze to hers. "I'm not making you give up your hunt for Sam. This isn't what this is about. You have an opportunity when we get our son back to find out why the fuck he took him in the first place. If Sam needs saving, you're the only one who can do it." Naomi stroked her thumb over Dean's cheek and leaned down to press a kiss against his forehead. "But I won't lose you, so you can find him. That's where I draw the line."

"I can't keep chasing him, Mimi. It's been too long. Every time he runs, I give chase—I never thought about him wanting to be away from me and I should have. I just assumed that it was my duty as a big brother. I forgot about my duty as a husband and father." Dean lowered his gaze from Naomi's, but her firm grip on his jaw disallowed any movement of his head.

"No, you didn't, Dean. You came home," she told him, her voice thick with emotion. "You came back to us every single time, even when you could have stayed on the road. But you didn't, you came home to us. You saw Sammy take his first steps, you heard him say his first words. Dean, he idolizes you, you've forgotten nothing of the sort." Naomi caressed Dean's cheek again, her lips ghosting over his as she took a moment to just _be_ with him, to notice the little things she hadn't in a while, like the fact that he still used the same shampoo as he had when they met, the same aftershave, the same hair gel—the stupid little things that she had forgotten to remember while she was so busy being pissed at him for leaving her all the time.

"I wonder why you put up with me sometimes, you know that?" Dean sighed, resting his forehead on Naomi's.

"I never do. Wonder that is. I love you, Dean." Naomi took a deep breath. "I dreamed you died, Dean, you and Sammy. That's what I was screaming about. Either Sam or Ruby was shooting at him, and you took the bullets for him twice. But it didn't matter, because he still got shot. Dean, our son died in my arms as you died just a few feet away, and it all felt so real. I never wanna go through that again. Ever." Naomi pressed another kiss to Dean's lips trying in vain to prove that he was there, that he was real.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean promised, his breath ghosting across Naomi's lips. "Not ever."

Naomi smiled against Dean's lips, the comforting feeling of love and home washing over her. "Me either." Naomi's lashes fluttered against Dean's and she grinned wider; somehow the pain of the past few days lessening slightly with the knowledge that her son was close by and hopefully safe by all accounts. Even if she was a complete bitch, Peyton wouldn't have brought them all this way just to tell them that Sammy was dead. Naomi would have felt it, too, would have known that Sammy was gone. But she hadn't. She _didn't_.

"Well, now we have all that sorted out, do you think we should call in the big guns and ask Bobby about those rituals, or do you wanna go on ahead without him?" Dean rubbed his hand in soothing circles across her back.

"No, you were right—we should ask him." Naomi kissed Dean's forehead before moving to get up, only to stop and look Dean in the eye. "Dean, these past few days, I know I've been a bit of a hormonal bitch-"

"Hey, it's okay. Sammy's missing, and you've been worried—I get it." Dean soothed and Naomi smiled softly.

"No, Dean." Naomi cupped Dean's jaw again, the small smile still playing across her face. "Well, yeah we've been worried as all hell about getting Sammy back, but it's not just that. It's—" Naomi was cut off when the door rattled, and she looked back at Dean sadly as he rubbed her thighs with an apologetic look. With a sigh, she stood up, allowing him to grab for his pistol before walking to the door. He paused when he reached it, looking back at her.

"Tell me later?" Dean whispered, and it was only after she nodded that he tightened his hold on the pistol and opened the door. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded, his large frame crowding the doorway so the person on the other side couldn't get in, nor see in.

"We have to talk." The familiar, unwelcome voice coming from the other side of the door made Naomi freeze for only a moment before she walked over to the doorway and wrapped her arms almost protectively around Dean, glaring at the woman at the door.

_Holy Shit._

"What the fuck do _you _want?" Naomi grit out, kinking her eyebrow when the woman merely chuckled.

"Really, Naomi, don't you think you're being a bit childish? Let me in, this is important." The woman glared at Naomi, who stepped back from Dean but ultimately let him make the final decision on the matter.

_He'll let her in, but he won't drop the gun, _Naomi thought with a slight smirk as she turned and headed into the room.

True to form, Dean allowed the woman to enter, kicking the salt out of the way and fixing the salt line as soon as she was in.

"This is some serious shit you two are in," she said, looking at them with eyes as black as night.

"Really?" Naomi retorted sarcastically. "I'm _so_ glad you're here to tell us these things, Ruby, since we couldn't work that one out for ourselves." Glaring at the familiar black-eyed figure, Naomi wanted nothing more than to gank the demon right where she stood. The only reason she hadn't was that right then, Ruby held all the cards. She knew where Sammy was—Naomi was sure of it, and the only way to get the information was to play along. To a certain extent. "Where's my son you black-eyed whore?" Naomi demanded.

"He's safe." Ruby looked from Naomi to Dean then back again. "He's safe, I swear."

_Of course you would tell us that, you lying bitch. _

"That's not what I asked you—I asked _where_ he was." Naomi's voice was rough, the unspoken warning being conveyed clearly.

"Oh, relax," Ruby sneered. "Your precious little hellion is stashed away all safe and sound with Sam—it's not far from here. But then, you already knew that, which is why you're in town." Ruby looked once again from Naomi to Dean and back again, clearly trying to work out who posed the biggest threat.

For once, Naomi was glad that Dean was allowing her to handle this, keeping watch while she snapped and snarled at Ruby, just like all those years ago when Sam had been killed by the demonic virus and Lilith had brought him back. Naomi was older and wiser now; she wasn't taking lucky guesses at what would work and what wouldn't. She may not have been the seasoned hunter Dean was, but demons weren't all that scary to her anymore, she knew how to deal now.

"Well maybe that's because you abducted my son." Dean's voice was a growl from where he was standing at the other side of the room. _Ah, well. So much for being the strong, silent type there, Dean._

"Oh, please—stop being so melodramatic," Ruby retorted, and if she'd been capable of it, Naomi had no doubt the demon would be rolling her eyes. "We didn't _abduct_ him," Ruby continued, obviously forgetting she was as close to Naomi as she was until the brunette had her pinned up against the wall in the time it took her to swallow back a yell.

"Well, you _sure_ as hell didn'thave our permission to remove our son from our home without telling us first. So if you didn't _abduct_ him, then what the hell would _you_ call it?" Naomi smashed her fist against the wall at Ruby's head, stopping short of actually hitting her. It was a scare tactic, she didn't really want to kill Ruby, not until she got Sammy back, at least.

"Would you calm the fuck down, already? We don't want a repeat of last time. " Ruby snarled before being slammed against the wall again. "Jeez, Naomi. Have you been working out?" She smirked, gritting her teeth when Naomi leaned back to take a swing at her. "Okay, okay, alright." Ruby held her hands up in surrender, slipping free of Naomi's grasp and walking towards the bed.

"Start talking or he starts shooting," Naomi warned, making her way over to Dean, the sudden need to feel him right _there_ beside her burning hot through her veins. Naomi allowed a small smile when she felt Dean's hand rest at the base of her spine, the comforting weight calming her down again.

"I'm glad you're calming down, because seriously, this is like déjà vu, wouldn't you say, Naomi?" Ruby said knowingly, her smirk enough to make Naomi grit her teeth, seething that it would unravel this way. _Again_, the little voice in her head told her. _It would all come undone this way all over again. _

"Ruby-" Naomi began, huffing out a breath when the blonde raised a hand to silence her. Not wanting Ruby to spill all of the beans, just the ones she wanted to hear.

"Fine, whatever," Ruby told her with a flippant wave of her hand. "Okay, so we borrowed your precious son—he's been more trouble than he's worth, by the way—but he's safe. And if you would fucking think for a minute, you'd realize we did it for a reason. Other than to wind you up, I mean, although that's been pretty amusing in itself. I mean, if it were me, I'd do it _solely _to piss you off, but Sam...Sam wants different things. He didn't have any malicious intent here. But aside from all of that, I came to tell you that you really have to pick your allies more carefully." Ruby raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped, obviously as irritated as Naomi by the fact that Ruby was skirting the truth.

"I'm talking about Peyton, short-bus. She's bad news, and if you can't see that, then you're a bigger moron than I thought. Sure she brought you here to help you get Sammy back. Kudos to her for that, but you are in _way_ over your heads with this one. Tonight, meet me at the old Bluebell factory—it's an abandoned, old building about an hour's drive from here. You two come alone, I'll give you Sammy, and I'll tell you more then."

"Why not tell us more now?" Dean demanded, straightening as Ruby stood.

"Because we're too exposed here—it's fucking dangerous. And I'm not about to let you two get me sent back to hell because you're being stupid." Ruby began to walk over to the door when Naomi put a hand out to stop her.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Naomi looked Ruby dead in the eye, her blue orbs meeting the charcoal eyes of the demon. "Demons lie."

"Yeah, well. I'm tired of fighting with your kid over bedtime and him eating all of my fucking ice cream. And believe it or not, I don't want the damned apocalypse to start." Ruby glared back at Naomi, before cocking her head to the side and pointing at the salt line at the door. "If you would be so kind." She smiled, a dark, cold smile that sent a shiver down Naomi's spine.

Dean stepped to the side and broke the salt line, allowing Ruby to walk through and closing the door quietly behind her before he leaned down and righted the salt line again.

_Nothing like Sammy to piss off even a demon...but the apocalypse? Jesus Christ, maybe this is bigger than we thought._

"The apocalypse?" Naomi looked down at Dean who was still crouched on the floor. "I'm totally on board with the 'don't trust Peyton' thing, but why would a demon be protecting our son from her? Or is it just me that got that impression?" Naomi asked and Dean shook his head as he stood up.

"Nah, I got the same feeling. I dunno, Naomi. I mean, you said it yourself—demons lie." Dean walked over to the table and placed his handgun down before turning to look at Naomi again, the unspoken words lying thick and heavy in the air.

_So do people._

_

* * *

_

Sam sighed as he stepped on yet another of the little green army men he had purchased for Sammy in an effort to keep the kid from using him or Ruby as targets or "bad guys" in his little games. Granted, it hadn't quite kept Sammy from waging war on him and Ruby, but it was progress, Sam decided as he kicked the little figure out of the way and kept moving. Sammy hadn't totally given up and started trusting Sam yet, he knew, but little Sammy was warming to him. He kept his guard up, just like Dean did, but he lowered it enough to get the information he needed and wanted before flying off the handle again and launching into another verbal sparring round. It amused and annoyed Sam in equal measures that a three-year-old could get one up on him so eloquently. That morning, for example, Sammy had told Sam he hated him and he should go and shove a very pointy stick up his 'pasty donkey.'

Sam _knew _it had to be something Naomi had said to someone, because Dean would have been too far gone in the temper stakes to think up a child friendly insult in front of his kid. Naomi, on the other hand, would have more experience at censoring herself and a lot more self control. _No doubt she fired some watered-down insult at_ _someone...probably not Dean, though. Nah, it's more like her to lose her temper when she's driving than to let one fly at Dean in front of their three-year-old. _

"Unca _Sam!_ You's did it _again!_" Sammy hollered suddenly, pulling Sam's attention back to the present as he held up the bent out of shape army figure before walking over to Sam and kicking him square in the shin. "See, _you's_ not like it," he told Sam matter-of-factly when Sam grunted in pain. "So _don's _do it to my army men!" Sammy scolded, walking out of the little room with his army man in his hand and shaking his head.

_Why the hell do I feel like shit about a fucking toy? Only Dean could do that to me. _Sam sighed and continued his way through to the kitchen where he was originally headed to get Sammy some hot milk, something he'd picked up from the kid that he got before bedtime to settle him down for the night. Not that Sammy would always drink the milk willingly, or go to sleep, or even get ready for bed. Well, providing that he had gotten dressed in the first place. Not for the first time Sam found his thoughts drifting back to Dean and things that Dean would say or do and wondering how on earth Dean managed to raise Sam without things turning into an all out bloodbath.

Sam sighed as he picked up the toddler cup from the draining board and walked over to the fridge to get the milk. It seemed like such a normal thing to do, the absurd realisation that Dean could in fact do normal chose that moment to hit him: the fact that Dean could read his son bedtime stories, could run around the house playing cowboys and Indians, could bathe his kid, could get him cereal, could get him his milk. The fact that Dean could just settle on the sofa with his sleeping son in his arms caused a massive lump to form in Sam's throat, a lump big enough to make even breathing difficult.

"Unca Sam?" Sammy's little voice pulled Sam from the morose train of thought.

"Hmm?" Sam shook his head, the unfamiliar weight of tears pushing at his eyelids, the heaviness of the emotion causing him to grip the edge of the counter tightly. Three long years of emotion suppression meant jack squat in the moment. Having little Sammy around had been like a catalyst for Sam to start being _human_ again rather than the unfeeling demonic entity he had become. All Sam saw when he looked at Sammy was Dean: the eyes, the smirk, the attitude, his ability to get under Sam's skin and piss him off more than a person should be able to. When Sam looked at Sammy, all he saw was family. All he saw was what he gave up in order for Dean to be safe, in order for Dean and his little family to be safe.

Sam scowled at that thought. _Safe my ass, he can't even protect his own son if I can waltz in there and snatch him. Okay, so salt doesn't affect me, but come on! I'm over two hundred pounds, and I'm six foot five of solid muscle. Seriously, how can you _not_ hear that? _Sam immediately straightened up again, his steely resolve coming back with a vengeance at the thought of the situation at hand, the very reason his nephew was currently with him and not with his parents being read bedtime stories and drinking hot milk.

"Unca _Sam_!" Little Sammy snapped, he had obviously been trying to get Sam's attention for a while.

"Sorry, what?" Sam looked down at his nephew and got the glare he was used to by now.

"I _says_, you wook wike shit." Sammy stated plainly, doing the thing with his arms again that made him look as though he was hugging himself, the action belayed by the glare on his little face, the sharp annoyed intensity in his green eyes half hidden by his too long blonde hair.

"Sammy, what have we said about you swearing?" Sam answered grimly, gearing himself up for another draining fight with the belligerent three-year-old. _Hell if I know how to talk to the kid without getting a litany of insults thrown back at me._

"I's not 'posed to." Sammy shrugged, giving Sam the most nonchalant look he had ever seen aside from those given to him by one other person in his life: his big brother.

Sam gave the toddler a pointed look, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Go get your pjs on while I fix your milk up."

"No, I not want to." Sammy sat down on the floor, looking petulantly up at Sam, and Sam closed his eyes, heaving a sigh at the kid.

"I don't actually give a damn whether you want to or not, Sammy—I'm tired of this stupid back and forth arguing with you. _I'm _the grown up, you'rethe kid—y_ou_ do as _I_ say." Sam moved to stand over Sammy, his shadow and form completely drowning the kid in darkness.

"You's said damn." Sam told him pointedly, obviously displaying the perfect blend of his parents' temperaments, both Dean's ridiculous ability to get under Sam's skin and state the obvious and Naomi's perfect ability to stay completely calm just to piss a person off even more.

"I'm a grown-up, Sammy, which means I can say whatever the hell I want." Sam glared down at him, hands on his hips as he realised he was being sucked into Sammy's little 'argue with me' game but feeling powerless to stop it.

"But you're not acting like a grown up, are you Sam?" Sammy pointed out as he got to his feet and dusted himself off, the little boy's maturity and the fact that he strung a coherent sentence together that was also grammatically correct, completely throwing Sam for a loop.

"You're actually being selfish here, you know. I mean sure, you're keeping me safe, but come on Sam, you're tearing your brother apart. You're destroying everything you fought so hard for him to have. But you just don't care, do you? As long as this world doesn't fall apart, you're fine with whoever gets caught in the crossfire. Thing is, Sam, you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing, are you? You're not supposed to be protecting me. Preventing me from being kidnapped. Are you?" It was Sammy's voice alright, the same "fuck you." expression he'd picked up from Dean, the same glint in his eye, but something was off. Something was so very, very off.

For a start, Sammy was only three. Well, three and a half, but that wasn't the point here. He wasn't possessed either, Sam could tell that much, which only fuelled his freak out. _It would be completely inappropriate to ask what the fuck got into you in this case, wouldn't it? Because if something is possessing him, I have no idea what it is, and for me not to be able to see some hellspawn inside my own nephew, that's some heavy duty shit someone's pulling._

Sam watched little Sammy's mouth move, but he couldn't see the words, couldn't even began to think past the blood rushing through his ears. He was vaguely aware of the panic surging through his veins, of the sweat dripping down his face and neck, pooling at the base of his spine. He felt his cold, hardened exterior slipping and the icy cool fingers of panic gripping at him.

Suddenly, there were two warm little hands on his face and he was staring into tear-filled green eyes and everything had stopped.

"Unca Sammy, is yous okay? There was a bang and you falled down." Sammy looked terrified, the cool, calm and almost dark little boy gone until all that stood in front of Sam was a broken and petrified little boy. "Whatsa matta?" Sammy was blinking rapidly and Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"I'm alright, little guy." Sam nodded, his breathing still a little shaky, his body still trembling as he took in his surroundings, the little breath he had managed to get into his lungs being pushed out of him when his nephew suddenly threw himself at Sam, wrapping himself around him, his little tear-stained face pressed into the side of Sam's neck as his little body was wracked with sobs. "Hey, come on." Sam tried to soothe, completely freaked out by having just hallucinated his nephew as some kind of freaky Jiminy Cricket-from-hell, his subsequent blackout, and the fact that said nephew was now hugging him.

Sam heard the door open and close, wrapping his arm more protectively around Sammy and preparing himself to use his mojo, despite the throbbing pain that had taken up residence in his skull. It was a pain that could only mean one of two things; 1) Old Yellow-Eyes was back on the scene, which was highly unlikely given the fact that Dean had put one of Samuel Colt's bullets in him, or 2) The End was a hell of a lot closer than anyone had anticipated. He'd been warned about headaches and blackouts and horrible, long, drawn out deaths before he even agreed to Lilith's terms, but he hadn't really listened. Now, he wished he had.

He listened for the footsteps, hearing them make their way into the den and pause. He slowed his breathing and heart rate until it was practically non-existent and tried to make Sammy match his breathing to his, something that was becoming increasingly impossible as his nephew sensed the other presence.

"Sam?" The voice called out and Sam let out a relieved breath, his headache returning with such force that he found himself fighting the urge to throw up.

"In here, Ruby!" He called back, wincing at the pain that burst through his skull and made its way down his back.

_What the fuck is going on?_

Sammy looked up at Sam with wide eyes, his little lower lip trembling as he hiccupped his way through the aftereffects of crying so hard, his little body shaking. _Kids really are way more temperamental than adults. Seriously. Mood swing much? _"It's okay, little guy," Sam whispered again, rubbing one large hand up and down Sammy's back as Sammy nodded and twisted around on Sam's lap so he could rest his head against Sam's chest.

"Sam-" Ruby stopped mid sentence, her face contorted with confusion as she looked down at them sitting on the kitchen floor. "Do I even wanna know?" she asked shortly, folding her arms across her chest as she quirked an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you later. Could you finish making him his milk while I put him to bed?" Sam asked as he pushed himself off of the floor, sparing a thought as to how normal this set up looked: a guy and a woman, putting a kid to bed before they had a big important talk about the future. Sam chuckled to himself, waving Ruby off when she started to ask.

Sam made sure he had Sammy wrapped tightly in his arms as he navigated through the old abandoned house into the little boy's temporary bedroom, Sammy clinging to the front of his shirt when he tried to set him down to grab his pjs.

"Come on, Sammy, let me get your pjs," Sam tried to reason, sighing softly and climbing onto the little bed when Sammy refused to relinquish his hold. "Okay, I guess that's a 'no," he muttered as he settled Sammy against his side. "Look, I told you, you didn't hurt me earlier. So what's wrong?" Sam asked as Sammy clambered back into his lap.

"I's misses my daddy," Sammy whispered softly. " I's misses Daddy and Momma." Sammy looked at his little fist that was clenched in Sam's shirts. "I thinked you was goin' away - I nots wants you to." Sammy told him, his little voice quiet as he continued to look at his fist.

Sam tried to ignore the way his heart ached at the mention of his parents and the fact that Sammy had suddenly opened up to him, lowered all guards and let Sam all the way in, like Dean had. He knew he was the only person, besides Naomi, who Dean ever let all the way in - Dean was too focused on holding their family together and not showing weakness in front of John that he never let the man inside his head. _Willingly anyway. _

"I'm not going anywhere, kiddo." Sam smiled down at Sammy, trying to distract himself from his thoughts and placate Sammy so he could go and discuss what the hell was going on in the world with Ruby. "Missing your Dad is tough, I get that. But, you know, I'm not so bad." Sam let out a little chuckle when Sammy looked up at him with a completely unconvinced look on his little face.

"My daddy pways wif me. You suck." Sammy told him and Sam shook his head.

"Yeah, okay. We've established the fact that I lack any parenting skills whatsoever. You know, considering the fact that your dad practically raised me, I'm really concerned by how I managed to get so little skill in the child-rearing department," Sam griped, much to Sammy's amusement if the little laugh he let out was anything to go by. "When I was your age," Sam began, dragging his fingers through Sammy's hair in a way Dean used to do to him when he was scared and snuggled in Dean's bed for protection, "your Daddy looked after me really well, even though he wasn't all that much older than me," Sam told him, grinning as the little boy's face filled with delight at the mention of his father.

"My dad was gone a lot, just like your daddy. He was looking for the thing that took my mom." Sam grinned at Sammy when the little boy nodded. "So, Dean had to take care of me. He always did such a great job, even if I couldn't see it right then. Without him, I wouldn't have come this far." Sam shook his head sadly, mentally cursing the onslaught of emotions he was being bombarded with after all those years without really feeling anything, after all those years of managing to block it out.

"I wants my daddy," Sammy whispered earnestly, look up to Sam and flashing him the biggest set of puppy dog eyes ever.

"I know you do, but you can't see him yet." Sam told him gently, waiting for Sammy to pitch his little fit. When it didn't come right away, Sam took the chance to press his explanation. "I know you don't feel like it now, but one day, you'll look back on this and thank me for keeping you here for a while. Think of it like I'm just babysitting you for a little while, just like your daddy looked after _me_ when I was little and _our_ daddy was away."

"It not da same," Sammy mumbled, his words slurring into each other, the obvious emotional effect of the past half hour draining the kid. Sammy rubbed at his eye with the fist that wasn't currently wrapped tightly around Sam's t-shirt, squinting up when Ruby walked into the room with his milk. "Fanks." Sammy held his hand out and took the sippy-cup from her and began to drink as Sam tried not to laugh out loud at the sheer look of shock on Ruby's face.

"So," Sam smiled a dimpled smile down at Sammy, a smile which felt unfamiliar on his face. "Pjs?" he asked and Sammy sighed before nodding, climbing off of Sam and letting him grab his pjs from the drawer. "Red ones or blue ones?" Sam asked, holding up the two pairs of plaid pjs, ignoring Sammy's eye roll as he pointed at the blue ones, mumbling around the sippy-cup about how it wasn't red but pink and pink was for girls.

"Night, kid," Ruby called as she walked out of the room, and Sam smirked when she almost fell over herself when Sammy responded to her and told her to have sweet dreams. _Eh, close enough. _Sam grinned at his nephew. _No point in telling the little guy Ruby doesn't sleep—the kid will want to join her. _

Sam handed Sammy his pjs and took his cup, allowing the kid some space to get changed, although he knew that within five seconds of Sammy taking his arms out of his shirt, Sam would have to untangle the little boy's limbs from the clothes and put his pajamas on for him. Sammy usually put up one hell of a fight and Sam usually ended up with some form of minor injury. Sammy really was his father's son, right down to the 'shoot first, ask questions later' attitude. Or in Sammy's case, Sam decided, it was more like a 'kick in the nuts first, skip the questions altogether' sort of mentality, though Sam couldn't deny that that sounded just as much like Dean as the former.

"Night, Unca Sam," Sammy yawned as he climbed into bed and burrowed down under the covers, snuggling into his blankie with his rabbit held tightly in his arms.

"Night, Sammy." Sam smiled and leaned down to press a kiss against Sammy's hair when his breathing had evened out. Sam hadn't meant to get attached to the kid, well aware that sooner or later he would have to give him up again; but there was a fierce well of protectiveness that was currently swelling within him, and Sam couldn't make it go away.

Walking out of the door, Sam gave the salt lines on the window a check, lest one of his own decide to take the kid from his bed, and left the door open slightly, flicking on the little nightlight that they had gotten for him when they were sure that no one would be snooping around the area and notice a light on in an old abandoned house and alert the authorities.

One thing Sam had learned right away after trying to get Sammy to sleep after his bedtime story that first night was that Sammy was scared of the dark. When Sam had first scoped out Dean and Naomi's place in New York, it had resembled some kind of supernatural fortress. It looked like an everyday huge-assed New York town house, but Sam knew all of the protection symbols that were there. Sure, a person would need to have x-ray vision or be able to see invisible ink without all that UV bullshit to see it; but it was there. If Sam had been a fully fledged demon, there'd have been no way he was getting into that house. Nothing supernatural could.

Sam sighed again as he made his way through to the kitchen where Ruby was perched on the kitchen counter, looking suspiciously at him.

"So did you bribe him or what? Because that kid is actually being _nice—_it's fucking creepy, Sam," Ruby stated, looking over Sam's shoulder at the door of Sammy's room.

"What the hell do I know? He lashed out at me this morning after you left, then tonight when I passed out, fucking _hallucinated _he was being some kind of mature freaky kid, he freaked out and hugged me. That was just before you came in. So what's going on?" Sam let out a breath and sat himself down in the chair before dragging his fingers through his hair.

"Wait, you're hallucinating already?" Ruby pushed herself off of the counter and walked over to Sam, crouching down beside his chair and reaching up to touch his forehead.

"I don't have a fever, Ruby. It was a flesh and blood hallucination—the shakes, the cold sweats, all of it." Sam pushed Ruby's hand off of his forehead. "Ruby, Lilith told me some stuff, told me that this was more or less a sign of the apocalypse—but that's years off, right? Like, at least 20 years off?" Sam stared back at her, practically able to see her mind working, her jaw grinding back and forth before she stood.

"It should be," she stated as she turned from him, walking over to the little window and looking out. "It should be exactly twenty-three years, six months and eighteen days away. We'll that's the word on the streets anyways." Ruby let out a sigh and Sam closed his eyes.

"But?" He asked, sitting back on the chair and folding his arms across his chest. _Why can't anything ever be fucking simple? Seriously._

"But the sky _has_ fallen." Ruby turned to him and looked solemnly at him. "Word is that roughly four thousand pieces of the sky have fallen. Looks like we got to the kid just in time." Ruby turned back to the window, and Sam tipped his head back and closed his eyes tightly. "It's only a matter of time before someone opens the door to the basement and the earth is going to be a complete mess."

"What can we do to stop it?" Sam asked, a slight edge of resignation in his voice.

"You have to step up, Sam." Ruby turned to him and walked back to him, resuming her crouched position beside his chair and resting her hand on his thigh. "I know you don't want to. But you have to give Dean his kid back and tell him everything—give up the ghost, so to speak."

"No, Ruby. How many times have we been through this already? This is as far gone as I'm going," Sam told her, his jaw working as he glared hotly at the blonde. "I will not risk my nephew's life just to keep Lucifer in his box—that isn't how this is going to work," he snapped irritably, pushing away from her and moving towards the window.

"Sam, this isn't about one little insignificant life here! We're talking billions of people dying while you're holed up protecting some toddler! What do you honestly think they can do to him? He's _three_, Sam. _Three!_" Ruby yelled back, sending the chair Sam was sitting on crashing into the wall.

"He'll be four in six months," Sam shot back as though it really made a difference. "And we both know he's not as insignificant as all that." Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. "Look, we'll find some other way to work this, but we're not going down that road. Sammy's staying here where I can protect him," Sam stated roughly and Ruby let out a snort.

"Too late for that, hotshot. I spoke to Dean and Naomi today. You were right—they are in town and so are Bobby and Lola. They know where you are, Sam, and they were gonna come here and take Sammy whether you liked it or not," Ruby retorted, her tone almost deadpan, but there was something in her voice that Sam didn't like.

"They _were_? How did you convince them otherwise?" he asked, the feeling from his dream sinking its icy claws into him as it clenched painfully around his chest.

"I told them to meet me tonight, and I'd give them their kid." Ruby shrugged and Sam spun around and had pinned her against the wall in no time at all.

"WHAT!" He roared and Ruby looked visibly shaken before her eyes flashed black and she grit her teeth.

"I told them they could have their son back. Just explain it to Dean—he'll understand, Sam. He'll protect his son better than you could in this situation—hell, you don't even know what you're up against!" Ruby hissed when Sam slammed her against the wall again.

"He can't protect Sammy better than I can, alright? He doesn't know the things I know, he doesn't have my capabilities, and he sure as hell isn't as strong as me." Sam breathed harshly against Ruby's face, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"Of course not, because you're so pumped full of demon blood by now it's a wonder you're still human!" Ruby let out a grunt as Sam smacked her off of the wall again. "You know, Sam, all that anger you've got is just what we need to get this show on the road. So why don't you just give Sammy back to his parents and let's fix this mess before anyone has to die?" Ruby wasn't pleading, she wouldn't. Even when Sam got insanely infuriated she would never break and plead with him to do things her way.

"Sammy has no reason to go back to his parents," Sam whispered low and dangerously into Ruby's ear. "I have all the angles covered. _Nothing_ can get him while he's here."

"Nothing can get him at Naomi's either, remember?" Ruby smirked at Sam, a dangerous move when he was in this kind of mood, but they'd been here so many times in the past three years that Sam almost expected it of her.

"I won't say it again. I can take on anything and win—you know that." Sam let Ruby fall to the floor, still bracketing her against the wall.

"No, Sam, you can't. Not yet," Ruby told him as she climbed to her feet again, glaring up at him. "Trust me Sam—you can't do this. Not alone anyway."

"I have _you_ here—I'm not on my own," Sam pointed out to her, quirking an eyebrow when Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Sam, I don't want the freaking apocalypse on my ass, but I'm not stupid. I know which battles I can fight and win and which battles will turn me into deep-fried hell spawn. I've been burned at the stake before, Sam—it wasn't fun. I won't be your tag team partner for this up and coming hell in a cell death-match. No way." Ruby shook her head and sighed.

"Excuse the pun, but what the hell has gotten into you? Since when do you run scared?" Sam stepped back, confusion taking over his burning anger at Ruby's words.

"Not what, Sam. Who." Ruby looked Sam in the eye, an unusual flicker of fear in her blue gaze. "Peyton's in town, and she's using Dean and Naomi to track Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. _Well if that isn't one way to get this week's edition of Apocalypse Now fast-tracked to every country in the world, then I don't know what is. _

"When did you say you'd meet Dean?"

* * *

Dean looked at the weapons they had laid out on the table and took a deep breath. They weren't sure if it was some demonic ploy that they were up against or not, so taking every precaution was something they were just going to have to do. He looked sideways at Naomi as she sat on the bed, thumbing her way through the newspaper and some of the copies of arcane rituals Dean had made copies of when they'd gone out "for lunch." They had brought back food, hiding the research in the trunk of the Impala lest Bobby or Lola see it and then they'd be screwed.

His mind kept wandering back to the conversation they had had before, during and after Ruby's visit. The pain of their fractured relationship going from a dull ache to a painful throb in the length of time it took to hear that his wife has dreamed his death and the Apocalypse was on its way. _If Ruby was telling the truth, _the little voice inside Dean's head reminded him. It wouldn't be the first time a demon had lied about something like that to get the human race so flustered about something that they went nuts and the demon got what it wanted.

Dean flicked a look to Naomi again as she carefully highlighted things and jotted things down; _once a college student, always a college student,_ Dean thought, a small smile pulling at his lips at how ridiculously organised she always was, from her day to her whole year, and how one little hiccup could fit right into any sort of plan she had. The fleeting thought of Sam and his planning and research skills had Dean reaching for his knife and sharpening block before joining Naomi on the bed, so many questions to ask her but severely lacking the words to ask them. Ruby's words bounced around his head as he tried to figure out what she meant, the words the only clue to the elephant in the room, the elephant that only seemed to be getting bigger and bigger.

"_I'm glad you're calming down, because seriously, this is like déjà vu, wouldn't you say, Naomi?"_

It was the usual thing a demon would say to fuck with your head, but the way she had said it, although she had smirked, there was something else there, maybe fear, and Dean would be damned if he knew what the issue was, but something felt off. The whole thing earlier was eerily familiar. It _was_ like déjà vu but Sammy had never gone missing before, and the last time Naomi had faced off with Ruby, she'd pointed a gun at _him_ as well. There were no guns this time, so there was no reason for this feeling to be taking residence in his gut. But there were no words to say, no way to ask.

"Find anything?" Dean settled for instead, wishing even as he said it that he could just grow a pair and fucking ask what he wanted to ask.

"Well, there have been a few electrical storms, but that's _it_. I mean, what happened to the massive rolls of thunder, the flood-inducing rain, the earthquakes, the world coming to a bloody, bloody end? There's nothing about that at _all,_ Dean." Naomi sighed and put her pen down, turning to look Dean in the eye. "Do you think she could be bluffing?"

_I wish._

"Nah, see..." Dean let out a breath, "with demons, if they know the truth'll mess with your head more than a lie will, you better believe that they're gonna tell you the cold, hard truth. It's all a matter of fucking with your head and turning you upside down until you agree to jump through rings of fire for them. It's not about telling lies that'll make no difference to you—it's about creating leverage," Dean explained, and Naomi nodded.

"So, a demon would tell me something soul-destroying about you, or Sammy, or someone I cared about just to freak me out enough to fall into their trap?" Naomi bit her lip before Dean nodded.

"Yeah that's exactly it. They find your weak spot and hit it hard. Knowing that Sam took Sammy ripped me apart...if it had been a demon who came to help us, that would have been the type of thing they would tell me. As for Ruby mentioning the Apocalypse, that's pretty much par for the course for demons—it's sort of like the demonic version of the company line. They spout it to freak people out, and demons get off on that kinda shit." Dean sighed and shook his head, flipping open the little sharpening block to run the blade along it.

"Is it really going to happen then? Are we going to die in some huge ball of fire when Lucifer rises?" Naomi moved closer to Dean as though seeking his warmth.

_I love the fact that we seem to be back on solid ground, but something feels off about this, like she's holding back. Is it so wrong that I'm waiting for the whole thing to end? I hate how fragile we've become, how fragile _I've_ made us. _Dean stopped and looked Naomi in the eye.

"Pretty much, although it depends. Some people believe God will end the world, some people believe it'll be Lucifer, and some believe that it'll be this epic turf war between them." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Either way, the world is going to end and we're going with it."

"And you're okay with that?" Naomi asked, her eyebrow raised and a slight look of shock on her face that left Dean wondering if they really had come full circle and Dean was dying all over again.

_It isn't really worth mentioning the fact that I feel as though I've been dying a little inside from the day I woke up. It isn't even just about Sam either. I mean, yeah sure, it's a huge-assed part of it, but me being away all the time is killing Naomi. I'm leaving her to raise him on her own. It's wrong, even though I know she's capable and she's not really alone, I shouldn't have to rely on bedtime phone calls with my son. I'm not my father._

"Dean?" Naomi asked, a puzzled and almost worried gaze passing over her beautiful features. "What is it?" she asked, the question hanging thickly in the air as she eased the blade from his hand and filled the empty space with her hand.

"What?" Dean asked, a cold sweat running down his spine at the thought of opening up to her again and breaking the fragile bond between them.

"You completely phased out on me there. What's going on in that head of yours?" Naomi tilted her head before she closed the distance between them and reached out to cup Dean's jaw to gently caress his face.

Dean sighed softly, all the while leaning into her touch. _I'm not going there with her; I mean, how do I broach the whole "I shouldn't be here" thing without sounding ungrateful, heartless or like a complete asshole? I never meant to put her through this for all these years. It's not like it's been my lifelong wish for it to happen like that, to hurt the only person out with family, hunting and otherwise, to love me. She and Sammy are my whole world, and it'd kill me to lose them, but I'm more trouble than I'm worth. Coming home to them is the only thing that keeps me fighting for Sam, but I shouldn't have to fight. I know it all ends tonight, but maybe I stay behind when they go, give them the life they should have had. Safe, secure, without all of the drama I bring. Maybe I should just stay here, keep saving people, hunting things. Keep up my end of the family business. Maybe it would be better if I just walked away here. A new year, a new start. Just like all those years ago._

"Hey," Naomi smiled gently at him, "We don't have to do this now, I mean, I know we've gone way past that emotional 'do not cross line' with you tonight. I know we really do have a lot to fix, to talk about, but there's plenty of time for that." Naomi leaned in to press her forehead against his, and Dean's eyes slipped closed, unable and unwilling to look at the hope in her eyes.

_See, this is the issue. I need her, and she needs me. I know we could work it out but she doesn't need the baggage I bring with me every time I come home. _

"Mimi, I…" Dean breathed in and his senses were assaulted by Naomi: the smell of her perfume and the vanilla scent that was her shampoo and the underlying scent that was purely Naomi. "I love you." Dean opened his eyes and looked into Naomi's eyes, the candle of hope burning brightly in her blue orbs.

"I love you, too, Dean, and it's gonna be alright," she whispered, leaning forward to place a kiss against Dean's lips, a simple touch of soft, plump lips to dry, cracked lips that told Dean everything he needed to know: _for better or for worse. Forever. _

Dean manuevered them around, making sure the blade didn't come into contact at all with Naomi until he could hold her as close to him as possible, allowing her to do what she always did and make everything better for him. She always managed to keep his demons away long enough for him to get his head back in the game; she was his safety net. It occurred to Dean then, that Naomi was the best weapon he'd ever had in any fight he'd ever fought.

"You know," Naomi whispered, seemingly in tune with his thoughts, "I only ever really and truly questioned our ability to stay together forever once." She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. "Way back during your twelve days of Christmas. I was thinking about ending it because I could have sworn that you wanted someone else, that you didn't want anything past sex with me."

"Really?" Dean asked as his eyebrows crept into his hairline, "That's the only time you ever thought we'd break up?" _There's been so many times when I've thought that this is it, I can't have been the only one to have thought it, right? I mean, fuck, I'm no drama queen or anything, but some of the fights we've had, you've got to have wondered... _

"Yeah, really." Naomi snuggled into him, ever vigilant of his battered and bruised body. "I mean yeah, we've broken up once or twice, but neither of us could ever really let go, so I never freaked out about that. I always knew that you were the one guy I'd have to put up with for life. And even now, when the going gets tough and the though we're not going to make it crosses my mind, you give me a reason to fight. Always. "

"Yeah, thanks for doing that by the way." Dean grinned down at Naomi before pressing a sound kiss to her lips. "How about we pack the car and go and get our son, yeah?" _Because, baby, I cannot take anymore chick flick tonight._

"Yeah," Naomi moved off of him. "Let's go get Sammy."

* * *

Naomi was just getting off the phone with Lola as Dean ended his call with Bobby. It was risky, so very risky, to do this sitting in a parking lot where the two people who had more or less dropped everything to help them were sitting in rooms only a few meters away.

Peyton let out a snort of almost disbelief as the Impala's engine came to life and peeled out of the parking lot ever so quietly. _Well as quietly as an Impala can._ Peyton shook her head and stepped out of the shadows, making her way over to Naomi and Dean's room while pulling out a lock pick. There was a much easier way to do this, but under the risk of being caught, picking the lock was the safest bet.

Peyton chuckled to herself as she slipped into the room; everything was just as neat as it was when they had arrived, the bags near the dresser were the only indication that anyone was using the room. Peyton wasn't here to snoop around, she needed one thing and that would be it. _Don't you just love the way things work in your favour? Fate is such a fickle thing, _she grinned as she made her way over to Naomi's bag and picked it up. She'd spent the past few weeks learning everything she needed to know about Naomi: what time she got up, what she ate for breakfast, how she decided what to wear, the fact she had a little style journal on her dresser so she never wore the same look to any big meetings more than once. Peyton could practically live Naomi's life without a hitch. _Provided I looked anything like her with all her stupid curves and brown hair and long lashes. _Peyton rolled her eyes at the thought and began to root around in Naomi's bag for the object she was looking for.

_It has to be here, somewhere,_ Peyton muttered, cursing under her breath when her search proved futile. Moving on to Dean's bag, Peyton sighed at the contents: clothes, a pen knife, two packets of M&Ms. The typical contents of a guy's bag. There was nothing in the realm of what she was looking for, nothing even _close_ to it. Peyton slammed Dean's bag back down on the floor with a frustrated growl and balled her hands into fists at her sides. A smirk spread across her face when she noticed that the top drawer of the dresser wasn't properly closed, pulling at the handles and grinning at the contents.

"Like taking candy from a baby," she stated into the empty room, and picked up John's journal, gently shaking it and waiting for the contents to drop out into her waiting palm. When nothing fell, Peyton frowned and opened the book, flicking through it as a wave of horror washed over her. Naomi had clearly used her expertise to secure everything which was paper, photographs or sticky notes neatly into the bindings of the journal, even the rosary beads were clasped in. Peyton however, wasn't looking for the rosary beads or a meaningless piece of paper. She was looking for the cool metal of the charm bracelet Dean had given Naomi years ago, the silver bracelet that Naomi never wore, but kept with this very book.

"She's wearing it." The voice startled Peyton into dropping the journal and as she turned around slowly, her face paled at the figure standing in the room with her.

"What are you doing here?" she grit out, fear and anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. _I've been careful, so very careful. How on earth did he manage to find me? How did I not hear him coming in?_

"You know why."

Peyton squared her shoulders as the door closed on its own. _This so wasn't part of the plan. _

_

* * *

_

Naomi smiled at Dean as they drove down the moonlit highway, neither saying anything, both just content to be consumed by the quiet determination that was beginning the slow burn through their systems. She let herself be distracted by the heavy weight around her right wrist. It wasn't often that Naomi felt the need to wear it. Usually it resided in John's journal, right beside the rosary beads and used as a page keeper. Dean was always around to protect her, so Naomi never felt the need to wear the bracelet even when he was gone. Their house was some kind of fortress—Dean had made sure of that. He'd enlisted Bobby's help, who'd pulled in a few more hunters and in a week, the house was supernatural-proof.

But tonight, there had been a niggling at the back of Naomi's mind and she hadn't been able to shake the feeling of unease until she'd secured the bracelet around her wrist. There was a horrible feeling in her gut, that something was wrong, really, really wrong, but Naomi ignored it. She'd put it to the back of her mind and did her best to block it out.

Naomi's mouth went dry as the rain began a soft rhythm against the Impala, the little raindrops glittering the in bright headlights. _No, no, no, no, no, no. _Naomi sat bolt upright in her seat, and looked at Dean whose gaze was now flicking between the road and her shaking form.

"Naomi?" he asked, reaching out and taking her hand. "What's wrong?"

"Stop," Naomi breathed out, her fingers clutching onto Dean's as he pulled the car over onto the side of the road and turned to face her.

"Naomi?" Dean whispered again, clearly frightened to lift his voice just in case she freaked out and shattered into a million pieces. "Please. Talk to me." The uncertainty in Dean's voice shook Naomi to the core and she turned wide, tear-filled eyes on her husband.

"It was raining." Naomi swallowed and tried to even out her breathing. "It was raining when you died Dean, in the dream last night. I was holding onto Sammy, sinking into the mud while you died a few feet away and he died in my arms." Naomi shook her head and gripped onto Dean's hand tighter. "It feels real now, like it's going to happen."

Dean stretched his arm out across the back of the bench seat of the Impala after wriggling it free of Naomi's grip, an open invitation for her to come to him, an invitation which Naomi took without a second thought, holding on to Dean and breathing him in, the spicy scent of his cologne, the fresh scent of soap, the clean smell of shampoo, the mint fresh scent of his toothpaste and the underlying scent of _Dean_ that always made her feel better.

"Nothing's gonna happen to me, baby, I swear—it was just some fucked up dream you were having," Dean told her as he pressed kisses into her hair, the worn leather of the jacket soft beneath her clammy palms. Naomi shook her head, her cheek scraping along the zipper of the jacket.

"Dean, it felt real, and now this? I mean, it's raining and it's dark, and I'm assuming Sam will be there with Ruby and Sammy! I just don't know who pulls the trigger!" Naomi was aware she was being hysterical, but as the rain began a torrential downpour, the fear inside seemed to make things all the more real.

"Okay, okay. Look, we'll call Bobby, and he can back us up, alright?" Dean smoothed the hair away from Naomi's face, letting out an almost pained sigh when she shook her head.

"No, Bobby was there, too, Dean! I want Sammy back, I do, but not at the risk of losing you both. I can't. I really, really _can't_." Naomi began to sob and Dean let out a soft exhale against her head, the soft and steady beating of his heart the only other thing Naomi could hear beyond the rushing of blood to her ears.

"Baby," Dean tried, but Naomi kept her face buried in his shoulder. "Naomi." Dean's voice was as gently firm as the hand on Naomi's chin that was lifting her face up in order to meet his eyes. "Listen to me. It was just a dream, nothing more. We're going to go get Sammy, then we're going home and we're going to have the best Christmas ever, alright?" Dean smiled softly before leaning into to press a kiss to Naomi's lips.

"Okay," Naomi whispered, an immense amount of reassurance flowing through her veins, the thought of the happily ever after Dean presented her with somehow making the dream seem like so long ago and completely irrelevant. Dean kissed her one more time before turning back to the wheel, his left arm still thrown over her shoulders as he held her close to him, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair as they continued on down the road.

Naomi raised her right hand to rest it on Dean's chest, the weight of the bracelet bringing a small fond smile to her face; Dean was trying to protect her even when he wasn't around.

"It's been awhile," Dean stated and Naomi looked up at him from where she was nestled against his side; probably not the best place in terms of road safety, but for reassurance and sanity's sake; there was nowhere else she would rather have been.

"Hmm?" she asked, not really a proper question but after all of the talking that had been done in the past day or so, words weren't really a necessity.

"Your bracelet—it's been awhile since you wore it." Dean's words weren't accusatory, his tone soft and reassuring.

"Yeah well," Naomi let the words hang in the air before she tucked her head back under his chin. "I've never felt the need to wear it, never came up against anything. Now I guess the dream has freaked me out enough to take it out of your dad's journal and put it on.

"You keep it in my dad's journal?" Dean's voice was a mixture of amusement and confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, it's the first port of call I'd go to if something came into the house and I didn't know what it was, so it makes sense to keep it in there." Naomi grinned at the feeling of Dean's smile. The thought that this could be the last time she saw him smile started a boiling low in her belly once again. And when Dean pulled up at the little deserted patch of road, near a cross road and next to a field, Naomi really wanted to throw up.

* * *

Dean got out of the car and walked towards the center of the crossroads. The last time he was here, he'd made a deal to save his little brother. Dean chuckled dangerously at the irony of it all. He'd made a deal to save Sammy and yet he was the one breathing air while Sammy did God knows what.

It had never been the night that scared Dean; truth be told, he loved the night time. He loved how everything could be concealed within the dark walls of night. He hated that evil had a place to hide. He hated that night time acted like a curtain to hide the deeds done by the things that nightmares wouldn't touch.

Dean was aware Naomi wasn't out of the car yet; he could feel her panicking just before he climbed out. Dean was petrified too, petrified that this could be some trick designed to kill them, but he needed to get his son back. He needed to see his brother again. This was just something that needed to be done. He let out a breath before rubbing the back of his neck and turning towards the car, where Naomi was chatting on her cell, tears rolling down her cheeks as her shoulders shook. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the car and take her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be okay. He would have given anything in that moment to _make_ everything okay.

But he knew he couldn't. These past few days had been an eye-opener at just how broken they had become, how far apart they were. Although he had decided to stay, Dean knew that he belonged on the road, too. The set-up they had was good, Dean knew that. Coming home between hunts and being able to spend time with the family he loved; the woman he loved and the son he adored, the family he would die if he lost. It was worth the hell he faced to leave them, knowing he could come back. But after this, standing once again at a crossroad to save a Sammy, Dean couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he'd brought this on them, that if he wasn't around, this wouldn't be happening.

A small hand slipped into his and he jumped, plastering on a smile when Naomi gave him a watery grin. Dean opened his mouth to say something to her, some comment about it being a ridiculous night out, the rain making the ground soggy beneath his feet. The words were trapped in his throat when he heard it, though.

"But it's wainin'! I's not wike da wain!"

"Sammy?" Naomi choked out beside him, clutching Dean's hand and arm as two figures came out of the shadows, one of them carrying a squirming toddler.

Dean reached around to where he had tucked the Colt against his back, the reassurance of the cold metal paling in comparison to the reassurance that was coming off of Naomi in waves just from her presence.

"why's yous do zis to me! I don wike da wain!" It was unmistakably Sammy, with his little attitude still intact. Dean felt a surge of pride in his chest when there was an aggravated huff of breath from the tall figure carrying Sammy and a gleeful laugh from Sammy himself.

"Sammy, baby?" Naomi called out as the figures stopped being silhouettes and started being people with features. Ruby, Dean recognized. And Sammy, his unruly mop of hair squished under a hood as his little fringe was matted with the rain, his hair wet. But it was the taller, male person that Dean was shocked to see. It was Sam. But it wasn't _Sam_. He'd bulked up and lost the kicked puppy face somewhere, his shaggy hair tamed and shorter, the shape of his face made angular by the facial hair he now sported.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was husky as a result of trying not to cry in front of his little brother.

"Momma? Daddy!" Sammy started struggling something awful in Sam's grip, kicking and screaming, scratching and biting, kicking out, slapping, punching, the works. Sam to his credit, simply grit his teeth and carried on walking, doing his best to ignore the tirade of violence and the torrent of child friendly insults spewing from Sammy's mouth.

"Baby!" Naomi called out again and made a move to run towards him, before Dean grabbed her and reeled her back in towards him, tucking her against his right side. _Come on, baby, not like this. Calm down. _Dean pressed a kiss to Naomi's forehead in an effort to soothe her.

"Sammy, listen to Daddy," Dean called out into the night, trying to get his struggling son's attention. "Sammy, listen to me." he said, more firm this time and Sammy's head snapped around to meet his gaze. "If you behave, Sam'll let you down sooner rather than later. You're coming home with us tonight, son, but you gotta calm down. Can you do that for Daddy?" Dean pleaded, trying not to come across as desperate in front of his little brother, his wife or his son.

"You seem awfully sure he's coming home with you tonight, Dean," Sam mocked, and Dean ground his teeth at the tone. It had been so long since he had heard his brother's voice that he hadn't factored in that this was one of the areas Sam would have changed too.

"That's because I am," Dean snapped back, the well of hurt, of _guilt_, turning on again and Dean was desperately trying not to drown in it, using Naomi as his float, as the one thing that would keep him up while Sam was the anchor that was dragging him down, pulling him under constantly.

"You never even read it did you?" Sam barked out suddenly, and Dean wracked his brain trying to figure out what Sam could have been talking about. "I mean, I fucking _warned_ you about all of this! I told you what was coming. What's _already here_. It's all there in print and you didn't even bother to read it."

"Read what?" Dean asked as he tried to process what Sam was telling him; there was something coming, something big enough to had Sam break into his brother's house and kidnap his son.

"The letter I wrote for you. It told you everything!" Sam yelled back over the din of the rain and Dean felt Naomi clutch his arm tighter, her fear as obvious as the looks Ruby was giving Sam.

"How the hell was I supposed to know you'd written me a letter?" Dean yelled back. He knew it was petty, but right now all they were doing was talking, and Dean would give anything not to have to use the gun he had stashed away on his little brother.

"I told you that night! I told you I put it in the Impala's glove compartment!"

"Oh, was that _before_ or _after_ you stabbed me with the Bowie? Because I dunno if you're aware, but I spent about four months in the hospital after that! I don't even remember _half_ of the stuff that happened that day. So I'm sorry I didn't read your little note—I was kind of busy, you know, not _dying_!" It was a low blow and Dean knew it, but somehow he felt a little of the pain ebb away when there was a flash of guilt in Sam's eyes. "I hardly even drive the Impala anymore!"

"You've never been in the glove compartment for anything, Dean? You're trying to tell me you've never seen a white envelope right there, in the glove box?" Sam was angry as all hell now, that much was obvious to Dean and he prided himself on being able to still read his little brother - even if it was just slightly.

"No, Sam. I haven't. So why don't you just tell me what the fuck had you breaking into my house and kidnapping my son!" Dean growled. The rain was getting heavier and he just wanted to be curled up with Naomi, his urge to see Sam having passed as soon as he'd realized just how much of a stranger his little brother was now. The grief of losing Sam was back with a vengeance and Dean realised that the worst way to lose someone was to have them standing right in front of you and not knowing who they were.

"Go read the fucking letter, Dean, I don't know who all could be listening." Sam's voice wasn't as harsh as it had been; it was softer now, more resigned.

"Fine, I read the letter, you give me Sammy back." Dean's toned matched Sam's and he raised his eyebrow at Sam, waiting for his response. Naomi trembled in Dean's arms and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. Dean watched as Sam whispered something to Ruby before looking back at Dean.

"Okay, you go read the letter right now. Naomi can come and get Sammy when you've read the whole thing and you're back out of the car." Sam looked Dean square in the eye.

"You okay with that?" Dean whispered against Naomi's head who nodded once, trembling subsiding as she found her steely resolve. Dean's heart ached as he dropped a kiss onto her head. "I love you," he whispered again, knowing it was the one thing she needed to hear.

"I love you, too." Naomi's voice only faltered slightly around the words as she visibly fought to control her emotions.

"Okay," Dean called out and Sam nodded. Dean let go of Naomi and walked briskly back to the car, opening it and slipping into the passenger seat, with the rain falling the way it was, he wouldn't be able to read the letter outside.

Dean pulled open the glove compartment and searched around a little, panicking a little before his fingers finally found a still pristine white envelope under all of the other stuff Naomi had stashed in there. Dean made a show of waving the letter at Sam before he flipped it over and opened up the envelope, rolling his eyes at the three double-sided sheets of motel room paper before settling down to read.

* * *

Naomi watched out of the corner of her eye as Dean settled in to start reading the letter. Her stomach was clenching painfully at the realisation that everyone was in the positions they needed to be in for her dream to actually be a reality. Taking a deep breath, Naomi inched closer and closer to Sam, knowing that he was too focused on Dean to notice. She was about ten feet away from them when Naomi took her eyes off of Sam, Ruby, and Sammy for a second to look at Dean, noticing the way his face paled at whatever was written on the paper and the fact he swallowed hard. It felt like a lifetime; Dean wasn't the world's quickest reader, but he wasn't slow either. It was probably only five minutes from him leaving her to him putting the contents of the envelope back into the envelope and putting it back into the glove compartment. Sammy had been struggling the entire time, Naomi was trying to give him little looks to tell him to behave, her stern looks obviously not weighted the same as they were when he was misbehaving back home.

Naomi slowed again, waiting for Sam's nod of approval to start walking over from her new position, vaguely aware that Dean was walking back to where they were originally standing. _Has Sam been aware I've been moving this whole time? Because he hasn't freaked out that I've gotten closer._ Then Sam put Sammy down. _No, no no no no, pick him back up! Pick him back up!_

Naomi felt the scream welling up in her throat, ready to tell them to run, to move, to get out of the way, but it was too late. She heard the screech of tires—she'd know the sound of her beloved Mustang anywhere—and Naomi knew what was going to happen but was powerless to warn anyone. So she broke into a run, waiting for it, the mud turning her sprint into a slow motion run, her own heart stopping in her chest when she heard it.

There was a whizzing sound just by Naomi's ear, a grunt of pain from Sam and then Sammy was free, grinning gleefully at her. It made sense now. Sammy pitched a fit and hurt Sam, Sam dropped him. Naomi stopped, her eyes going wide in terror as she dropped to her knees.

"NO! Sammy! Don't move! Make sure Sam's okay!" she yelled not really sure if he would bite but willing to give it a shot if Sammy would still be alive. However, Sammy's little legs were already propelling him towards her. She heard more than saw the next shot, followed by Dean's muffled grunt of pain, and without thought, she jumped to her feet, running towards her son.

Another loud bang permeated the air, eliciting another stifled groan of pain from Dean's direction. Naomi couldn't risk sparing a glance in his direction, though, her heart and head focused solely on getting her son in her arms. She lunged for Sammy and grabbed at him; another loud shot rang out, the shots coming from somewhere just out of view, but this time the loud cry of pain was much closer to where she was, so much closer. The muffled groan came from the bundle in her arms.

"Sammy?" she whispered, the icy cold grip of terror clutching at her heart, ripping at it as her hand gripped her son's back, the damp, warm almost sticky feeling slowing down her heart rate until Naomi was certain it had stopped. "Sammy? No! Goddamn it, Sammy! Open your eyes, right now! It's not even that bad, sweetie-Momma'll just put a band-aid on it and it'll be okay. Sammy?" Her son's body went lifeless and heavy in her arms, his head lolling onto her chest.

The rain pelted down as Naomi sank further into the mud. Clutching Sammy to her and sobbing hard, inhaling the scent of his hair, feeling his cooling cheek against her neck. She could hear Ruby swearing at Sam, trying to get him to his feet, telling him that if he was a fully fledged demon, bullets wouldn't hurt him. But none of that mattered, not now.

"Sammy." It was a broken whisper, and suddenly needing Dean like she'd never needed him before, Naomi cast a glance over at her husband lying face down in the mud, motionless. "Dean?" she cried, her voice shaky. "Dean, wake up!" she yelled, tightening her grip around Sammy as another onslaught of vicious sobs wracked her body.

"They're gone." Bobby's voice was so soft she thought she had imagined it, somewhere in the back of her mind wondering if he was talking about Sam and Ruby of her husband and her little boy. Bobby's hand was on her shoulder, then, gripping her tightly. There were no warm arms wrapping themselves around her now, no soothing words as the world collapsed into little pieces. She wasn't going to wake up like she desperately wanted to. It was over now. Dean wouldn't be there to make it all better. Not this time. **

Naomi looked to her right and saw Lola crouched down over Dean, trying to revive him, but Naomi knew it was too late. This was exactly what she'd known was coming. She pressed her face into her little boy's hair and sobbed, not noticing the sound of the wind around her, the loud almost fluttering sound that penetrated the air. All she could feel was the pain that was beginning to throb deep within her as the heat drained from her little boy's body and her husband died just a few feet away.

* * *

**A/N**: Well...?


End file.
